Earth-717: Captain America Volume 1
by Over9000Pylons
Summary: An alternate time. An alternate world. Steve Rogers is a man who is willing to do anything to fight for a just cause. However, his frail form inhibits his ability to be the hero he is on the inside. Modified by a secret program, Steve is transformed into Captain America, a symbol of hope who must lead the forces of freedom in a desperate struggle against the villainous Hydra.
1. Miss Carter

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 1: Miss Carter

As much as she tried to hide it, a wave of grief washed all over Peggy's face. Her austere expression was betrayed by the modest shivers in her hands; the trembling of her mouth. Looking down at her lap, she massaged her hands together as best she could, but eventually relented and just stared into her right palm.

The silver, circular locket in her hand was latched shut. It was four centimetres in diameter, with a set of thin chains attached to a tiny, round hook at the top, wrapping themselves around her fingers. They felt like small strands of silky liquid, flowing and tracing themselves along the rivets of her skin. Cradling the locket with a curved palm, she pressed the inside of her thumb against its smooth surface, rubbing it back and forth. Miniscule splotches of moisture were left behind on the metal surface.

Feeling the edges of her eyes curve downwards, she heard the familiar and yet faded voice in the back of her mind.

_"I got something for you."_

_ "Oh, really?"_

Her gaze perused the small latch on the side of the locket. With the flick of one of her fingernails, she could easily unlock it and see what was inside.

_"What is it?"_

_"I can't tell you yet. Before I hand it over, you have to make me a promise."_

The trembling of her palm grew more pronounced as she stared at the latch.

_"Don't open it until we get back."_

We. Such a seemingly innocuous word at the time. He had no idea of the implications that one, simple word choice would have. No reason to believe that she would linger on that single two letter word for the rest of her life.

_"Promise?"_

Peggy closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, as if turning her gaze away from her hand would ease the pain any more. She pressed the muscles of her mouth as hard as she could to keep it from opening, her pursed lips quaking in resistance.

_"I told you I don't like to make promises."_

She kept her eyes shut as she closed her fingers around the locket, hiding it from view. The chain was thin enough to escape through the slits of her fingers.

_"Please. Just this once."_

Lowering her fist beneath the table, she took her free left hand and placed the index finger and thumb on her forehead, resting her skull against the place between them. She let her elbow fall onto the edge of the metal table in front of her, which was otherwise clear. It had the same empty metal sheen as the locket. While she kept her eyes closed, she felt her mind drift back to the room she was in, drinking in the details she remembered in an attempt to cloud her thoughts, even if just for a moment.

The room was small, dark, and had only one entrance: the door which was directly opposite where she was. The walls were made of cyan painted bricks, with no windows. The chair Peggy was sitting on was identical to the one on the opposite side of the table, which seemed to be made of the same type of metal. A single security camera was affixed in the top left ceiling corner, pointing directly at her.

She snapped her eyes open upon hearing the doorknob turn. Looking up, she saw the figure of a woman in her forties walking through the door. She was wearing a long, grey business dress, and was holding a beige file folder in her free hand. Her dark blonde hair was in a bob cut, and it was freshly attended to; a contrast with the set of wrinkles pressing around her eyelids and cheeks.

Coldly gazing upon Peggy for a moment, the woman then closed the door behind her before dropping the folder on the table. As it slapped down on the surface, some of the papers and files jostled their way out of it. Peggy put down her left hand and looked away from them as the woman sat down, pulling her chair in behind her. The woman stared at her for a minute before speaking.

"Miss Carter?"

Peggy sighed and looked over at her, but otherwise didn't respond.

"My name is . . . ."

"Catherine Whitford," said Peggy. "I know who you are."

"Then you know why I'm here."

"Yes."

Whitford sat back in her chair, kicking up one of her feet so she could cross her legs. Placing her hands together and interlocking her fingers, she tilted her head as she continued to try and read Peggy.

"Trying to be difficult on purpose isn't going to help your case, Miss Carter."

"Trying to be intimidating on purpose isn't going to help yours."

Whitford didn't chuckle.

"Miss Carter, I represent the administrative board of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I have to co-ordinate agents and operations across three separate continents, so how about we cut the bullshit right here?"

Peggy scowled at Whitford.

"I'm here on behalf of the administrative board, no more, no less. Trust me, I don't find this pleasant either, but considering how many hands were in the pot on this, there are many with invested interest in learning exactly what happened."

"Did they read my report?"  
"Yes."

"Then I fail to see why this meeting is necessary."

Whitford pushed herself out of her chair and stood up, putting her hands behind her back. She started pacing back and forth around her side of the table.

"This meeting is necessary because you're the only one with the information we need," explained Whitford. "Your report has several instances of murky or possibly even deliberately vague information. Not only are you now the only one alive from Operation Snowfall, but you were also the agent handpicked to chart the progress of Subject Zero for Project Pythagoras from day one. Given certain . . . . disconcerting rumours . . . . we felt it important to learn as many details about your account as we could from you directly."

Clenching her teeth, Peggy listened to Whitford, but did not return her stare.

"And if I don't co-operate?" asked Peggy, her voice strained. "If I quit?"

"Then you will be held in breach of your terms of service to the SSR. Preemptive termination of duty. You will be considered in contempt of a wartime government, and will be treated as such."

Peggy coughed in surprise, finally looking up at Whitford.

"Treason?! You'll charge me with treason?"

Whitford stopped pacing.

"If I have to. And not just any treason, Miss Carter. The SSR is a coalition across the governments of all major Allied nations. If we charge you with treason, you won't just be held in contempt of England or the United States. This would reach across all our political allies."

Peggy growled and slammed her left fist on the table. Whitford didn't move at all.

"You cheeky cunt!"

Whitford turned away from Peggy, as if to stare out a non-existent window.

"Those are the cards you can play, Miss Carter. Talk to me, and spill everything . . . . or you won't be welcome in any country of the free world."

Spending a few moments to slow down her breathing, Peggy looked down at the table. She still had her fist pressed against it. Her facial muscles vibrated with unadulterated fury, but she slowed her breathing until the passionate rage distilled and drained itself. Closing her eyes and shaking her head, she spent several minutes in silence. Whitford stayed still the entire time, endlessly patient.

After a long while, Peggy spoke, without opening her eyes.

"I'll talk."

"A wise decision."

Peggy opened her eyes as she watched Whitford open the folder. She began picking up some of the papers inside, laying them down in front of her. Peggy's eyes jumped from file to file, skimming the text and images.

"I have brought with me all of the official documentation that the administrative board was privy to about everything you were attached to, since the beginning. Your personal history, documents on both Project Pythagoras and Operation Snowfall, all of the events in between. Personnel records, research notes, private discourse."

Peggy snorted.

"Looks like you have more info than I do."

"They want you to sort through all of this and tell me everything you know. Chronological order. We want to see if there is anything we've missed that might be able to answer the questions that we have."

"And what would those be?"

Whitford contemptuously blinked before reaching into the folder and pulling out a handful of personnel files. Peggy cringed as she watched her place them all side by side, facing her.

"Timothy Dugan."

A stout, portly man with a thick moustache, red tinted hair, and a bowler hat.

"Gabriel Jones."

A dark-skinned man in a military jacket and helmet.

"James Morita."

A smiling, Asian man with slight stubble and casual clothes.

"Montgomery Falsworth."

A thin man with an angular head, which had a red beret atop it.

"Natalie Lorraine."

A blonde woman with a devious smile.

"James Buchanan Barnes."

A confident, tall, laid-back man with short, unkempt black hair and a blue jacket.

"Steven Grant Rogers."

Peggy winced upon hearing the name and looking at the picture. It showed a muscular, well-built man in an iconic white, red and blue uniform. He held a circular shield in his left hand that matched his outfit. He was looking not at the camera, but into the distance. Peggy felt herself take in a breath as she fought back her subconscious inclination to cry.

"Margaret Carter."

Peggy saw herself in the image. She had the same curly brown hair. The same thick, ruby lips. The same brown uniform. As she looked into her own eyes, she remembered everything she felt when that picture was taken.

Honour. Courage. Confidence.

All of those feelings were long gone.

"This is the roster of the special forces unit referred to as the Howling Commandos, sanctioned by the SSR," said Whitford.

Peggy closed her eyes, knowing what Whitford was going to say next.

"They've all been listed as killed in action."

All Peggy could feel was the quickening of her heartbeat.

"Except you."

Peggy slowly looked back up at Whitford.

"Is that a question?"

"We want to know why out of eight of our most decorated soldiers, only you got out of that base alive. Not only that, but also how you managed to get the most important living icon of the free world killed."

Peggy abruptly stood up, her nostrils and eyes flaring with rage.

"You shut your mouth!"

"Miss Carter, your incessant and vulgar outbursts are both unnecessary and unwarranted."

"I'm tired of your bullshit sideways accusations."

"Then tell me the truth."

Whitford glanced down at Peggy's right hand for a moment. That was all she needed to divert Peggy's attention. Looking down, she noticed that both of her fists were on the table, and the set of thin chains from the locket were wrapped around her fingers and wrist.

Peggy sighed again, shaking her head but this time keeping her eyes open.

"It seems the rumours were true," stated Whitford, snidely.

With a frown, Peggy slowly sat back down in her chair. Whitford nodded and moved back to hers. Once they were both seated, Whitford sat forward.

"Start at the beginning. Your file says that you received your assignment for Project Pythagoras in January of 1941. As good of a place to start as any."

Peggy took a long time to think about what she was going to say. Once again, she opened her palm and looked at the locket inside. Her breathing slowed, her muscles softened, and her eyes watered. While she allowed the first two, she fought hard against the third. Wiping her face once, she then forcibly strained her eyes so as to not let any tears leave. She made sure her body was as still as it could be; all of her shivering was gone. When she was ready, she spoke.

"It started in a museum."


	2. The Call

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 2: The Call

His face pressed against his right fist, Steve took another sip from the straw that led into his glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Blinking in disinterest as another group of patrons entered the diner, he then scratched his forehead for a couple of moments. Looking back and forth from the inside of the building to out the window, he found that he wasn't really looking at anything in particular, but rather just noting things that he saw out of boredom.

He called out the manufacturers of the various automobiles that drove down the street in his mind. He counted the number of women walking on the sidewalks with yellow clothing. He kept track of all the baseball cards the set of teenagers at the nearby table traded amongst each other. All the while, the sound of the music playing over the radio flowed through his ears. He smiled as a new song started.

_"Of all the boys I've known and I've known some,  
Until I first met you I was lonesome,  
And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light,  
And this old world seemed new to me . . . ."_

Nodding his head to the rhythm, he then looked back down at his plate.

There was a half-eaten sandwich there. It had an assortment of sliced ham, lettuce, mustard, mozzarella cheese and pickles all stuffed between a baguette style bun. Gripping it with both hands, Steve sighed as he took as generous of a bite as he could. He quickly realized his mistake, struggling to chew what he had taken. Groaning and shaking his head, he dropped the sandwich back on the plate and hurriedly pulled the straw to his lips.

Sipping down more cola, he swished it around the inside of his mouth, helping to soften and break down the food. After swallowing the whole lot and coughing once he forced it down, he pounded his fist against his chest a few times to try and mitigate the pain. Draining the last of the cola, he looked at the remainder of the sandwich and sighed.

_"I could say 'bella, bella' even 'sehr wunderbar',  
Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are,  
I've tried to explain 'bei mir bist du schön',  
So kiss me and say that you will understand!"_

Holding the plate in one hand and the bottle in the other, Steve walked to the counter and placed them in front of the chef. He was a rotund man with a bald head and a grey moustache.

"Defeated again?"

"Sorry, Ron. Guess I'm just not up to it yet."

Ron laughed.

"Don't worry about it, boy. We'll bulk you up yet."

Steve rolled his eyes in a humorous manner.

"Might need some help for that one. See you later."

"Hey, say hi to Buck for me, will ya?"

"Can't. He shipped out on Wednesday."

Ron threw up his hands.

"Awh, shit. Already?"

"Yup."

"Damn. The years just keep blasting past me. Have a good one, ya hear?"

Steve nodded in response before turning and walking out of the diner. As he did, a woman wearing a blue jacket and sitting in the back corner got up, and after a few moments, exited behind him.

* * *

His hands in his pockets, Steve walked down the halls of the museum. Various exhibits and displays showed pieces of army memorabilia and other such trinkets. He stopped in front of a roped off section with several mannequins wearing uniforms of multiple nations, all in combat stances. As he started reading the golden plaque in front of the display, his ears perked up upon hearing a discussion taking place between a couple standing near him.

"I tell you, Linda, those damn Jerries have to be put down," said the man. "They already tried to take over the world once. Now they're at it again. Bratwurst bastards."

Steve looked over at the man, holding up a hand.

"Actually . . . ."

The couple turned to look at him.

"The Germans weren't the cause of the last war," explained Steve. "Not directly. You see, they got dragged into it via the chain of alliances, which was the real reason the conflict got out of hand. It's very different from what's going on right now."

The man scowled at him.

"Who asked you, grandstand?"

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Come on, doll," said the man.

Steve sighed as the couple walked away from him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he then looked forward at the display again. Staring at the white, featureless face of the closest mannequin, he spent a few moments pondering.

"Don't feel bad, Jerry," said Steve. "We all get misunderstood sometimes."

As he was speaking, a woman in a blue jacket walked up to and stood beside him.

"Talk to statues often?" asked the woman, speaking in a distinctively English accent.

Steve looked over at the woman in surprise.

"What? Oh . . . . oh, no, not really. Trying it out. Didn't do much, really."

"Well, it is an inanimate object."

"Heh, yeah. Not the most talkative type."

The woman regarded the display for a moment, and Steve took the opportunity to get a good look at her. She had curly brown hair, thick ruby lips, and a blue civilian jacket made of expensive material. He opened his mouth to say something, but then returned to looking at the display.

"You're not the most talkative type either, are you?" asked the woman.

Steve shook his head.

"Not really, no. Especially not to beautiful dames who follow me around town."

The woman raised an eyebrow. Steve looked at her with a suspicious glare.

"You've been on my tail for half an hour," said Steve. "Women tend not to seek me out, so I'd like to know why."

The woman shrugged and moved her head back and forth for a moment before looking behind Steve's back. She noticed a man with blonde hair in the crowd moving towards them. He had one hand in his pocket, but not the other. Her eyes widened for a brief moment. She then reached forward and quickly wrapped her arm around Steve's neck.

"Hey, what . . . ."

"Get down!"

She pushed Steve to the ground and jumped back as the man from the crowd whipped a silver throwing knife towards them. It missed Steve's hairline by centimetres, instead impaling one of the mannequins in the middle of the forehead. The woman reached into the bosom of her jacket and pulled out a pistol, taking aim at the man as the majority of the crowd started screaming.

The man who threw the knife quickly leaped backwards as the woman fired a shot at him. Steve, who was crouching and hyperventilating, crawled around the display, taking cover behind a nearby counter. The woman backpedalled towards his hiding spot as another woman from the crowd, blonde like the first assassin, pulled a Thompson sub-machine gun from under her long overcoat and began firing in their direction.

The man who threw the knife got back up and stood at the side of his partner. The woman at Steve's side got behind the counter next to him after looking at the two.

"You alright?"

"You kidding?!" asked Steve.

"Have you been hurt?!"

"No! No."

"I'll give you some cover. Once they're distracted, you bolt for that door. Got it?"

"What? What is going . . . ."

"Move!" shouted the woman, as she stood up and fired several more shots from her pistol.

The two assassins dived to get behind the various displays as the screaming crowd rushed for the exits. Steve scrambled on all fours for a moment before breaking into a sprint and crashing through one of the doors. The female assassin scowled.

"He's outside!"

The male assassin jerked his head in response. The female then stepped out of cover and fired another burst of bullets from her gun. Steve ducked as the bullets shattered the glass doors behind him. An open top beige car then pulled up on the side of the road, driven by a man wearing a fedora.

"Steve Rogers?"

"Huh?"

"Get in! Now!"

Steve didn't move, instead looking back behind him. The woman in the blue jacket kicked open the door, blindly firing more pistol shots behind her as she ran towards Steve.

"In the car!" she yelled.

Steve nodded and jumped into the backseat, with the woman in the blue jacket getting into the passenger seat. Before she was even finished closing the car door behind her, the driver took off down the road. Steve was jostled by the sudden movement, smashing his face against the side of the car and grunting in pain.

"Who were they?" asked the driver.

The woman in the blue jacket dropped the magazine from her pistol and stuffed in another from the glove compartment.

"The Krugers."

"Them? Dammit."

"Krugers?" asked Steve. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"No time," responded the woman.

"People are shooting at me! I want answers!"

"The Krugers are Nazi assassins," said the driver. "Twins. Heinz and Hannah. They've been hired to kill you."

"Me?!"

The woman in the blue jacket turned her head around. She saw the Krugers were now in a car of their own. Heinz was driving, and Hannah was in the passenger seat, reloading her sub-machine gun. Hannah then poked her head out of the car door window and aimed her weapon at them.

"Turn left! Now!" shouted the woman, before looking at Steve. "You! Stay down!"

The driver yelled as he sharply turned the wheel, throwing Steve around the back seat again. Hannah fired a stream of bullets, barely missing Steve's car as it headed down an alley.

"Ugh!"

A police officer was standing on the road nearby and began running for his car. Hannah fired a small burst at him, putting three bullets in his chest. Bystanders screamed and scrambled to avoid the car chase. The driver of Steve's car held onto his hat as they headed down an alley and out onto another road, with the Krugers' car only metres away.

"Get to the docks," said the woman in the blue jacket. "Hopefully, Nivens has the boat ready."

Steve pushed himself upright again.

"Boat?"

The woman in the blue jacket took aim at the side of his head.

"I said stay down!"

Steve ducked again as she fired more pistols shots at the Krugers' car, piercing the windshield. Heinz lowered his head to avoid the shots as Hannah screamed at him in German. The woman looked forward again.

"Floor it. Go into incoming traffic if you have to!"

"What?!" exclaimed Steve.

The driver pressed hard on the gas pedal, speeding up as he weaved between lanes. Heinz followed suit in order to keep up. As they headed towards the waterfront, Hannah fired another burst of gunfire, missing Steve but striking the driver in the chest through his seat.

"Agh!"

"Harry!" shouted the woman.

With Harry incapacitated, the car veered off the road and onto a wooden dock, crashing into a post. The woman in the blue jacket quickly kicked open her car door, aiming her pistol at the Krugers' car as it approached. Firing a well-aimed shot, she blew out one of the front tires, causing Heinz to shriek as he lost control of his vehicle, smashing the side of it against a stack of crates.

She took a moment to press her hand against Harry's neck, and frowned upon finding no pulse. Steve looked at her in shock.

"What . . . . what do we . . . ."

"To the edge of the pier! Go, go!"

Steve clambered out of the car and joined the woman as they ran down the length of the dock. Both Heinz and Hannah exited their wrecked vehicle and took pursuit, with Hannah growling as she was forced to discard her now broken sub-machine gun. As Steve ran, he noticed a small motorboat speeding towards the end of the dock.

"That ours?"

"Yes! Go! Fast as you can!"

Panting profusely, Steve put all of his remaining energy into his legs, sprinting towards the boat. It pulled up beside the dock, and he jumped forward, his arms in the air as he did so. Landing inside, he moaned as he crashed against the floor. Nivens, the man driving the boat, looked back at him.

"You okay?!"

"Not sure," replied Steve, holding his knee in pain.

The woman in the blue jacket stopped at the edge of the pier, turning around to face the two assassins barrelling down at her. Heinz pulled out another knife and tossed it, but the woman sidestepped just in time. As he charged forward, another knife in hand, she grabbed his arm and began struggling with him.

Hannah, a few steps behind, pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Steve. Nivens quickly aimed his own pistol at her and fired, hitting her in the shoulder. Hannah squealed in pain and took a step back. The woman in the blue jacket, wrestling for control of Heinz's wrists, elbowed him in the face before pulling the knife out of his hand. Before he could defend himself, she jammed it right into his throat, piercing the underside of his mouth.

Choking on his own blood, he fell to the floor. Enraged, Hannah charged forward and tackled the woman, knocking them both into the boat. Steve quickly rolled away to avoid being crushed. Nivens aimed his pistol at them but hesitated as they struggled on the floor, unable to get a clear shot.

The woman kicked Hannah in the stomach, stunning her. Pushing her off, she then whipped out her pistol again and shot her right in the chest. Hannah coughed at the bullet's impact, unable to move. The woman fired two more shots. Hannah staggered backwards, but did not fall.

"Get off my boat."

The woman kicked Hannah right in the sternum, sending her flying off the boat and into the water. Taking a moment to breathe and wipe some of the blood off her face, she then threw her pistol overboard. Steve's gaze was transfixed on her, in a mixture of awe and astonishment. Nivens nodded at her and got back into his seat, driving the boat away from the pier.

Once they were moving, the woman blinked and looked over at Steve, who was huddled on the floor. She walked over and held out a hand. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking it. After helping him to his feet, she began turning away.

"Wait!"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Who . . . . who are you?"

The woman shrugged.

"I suppose that's fair," said the woman. "My name is Margaret Carter. I've been assigned as your bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?"

"You and I have a lot to discuss, Steve Rogers."

* * *

Clicking his fingers against the armrest of his chair, Schmidt stared out of his panoramic window, showing a wide view of snow-covered mountains. His office was relatively bare aside from his desk. The decor was posh and elegant, with a mostly dark colour palette, which extended even to his finely-crafted, all-black uniform. It made the fact that the skin of his head was all red stand out even more.

Ophelia strolled into the room, stopping two metres away from the desk and standing at attention. Schmidt spoke without turning to face her.

"Report."

"The Krugers . . . . have failed."

"Explain."

"They're both dead. Our spies confirm they did not accomplish their objective. The boy still lives."

Schmidt growled, clenching his teeth as he did so.

"And Erskine?"

"They were unable to confirm the destination of the Allied agents. We still don't have a location on Erskine's secret lab."

Schmidt sat forward, looking around the edge of his chair at her. Roaring in anger, he stood and picked up his chair, throwing it at the corner of the room. After the chair smashed to pieces, he then swiped his hand across the desk, knocking over several of the items. Punching his fist into the desk and putting in a severe dent, he then rushed around it and stood directly in front of Ophelia, his nostrils flaring. During all of this, she did not move at all.

He snarled and furrowed his brow at her, but softened his face after a few seconds.

"Erskine . . . . must be found. And this boy . . . . must be eliminated."


	3. Hypotenuse

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 3: Hypotenuse

Quickly taking in and letting out deep breaths, Steve kept his eyes focused straight ahead. He tried not to let his gaze wander despite all the activity going on around him. Technicians and scientists were buzzing around the room, working at consoles and taking down notes. The observation deck above had a dozen people watching him, waiting for the moment that would change his life forever.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to the first time he arrived at this place.

* * *

The round metal door closing behind him, Steve looked back with a disconcerted face. Carter did not stop walking, and he found that he had to lightly jog to catch up with her. Once he did, he looked up at her head and gave a small smile, which she did not return. Steve nodded and looked forward, attempting to emulate her style of marching.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Carter pressed a key code into the panel at the side of the door. The panel flicked green, and the door automatically opened. She turned around and looked down at Steve. He bit the inside of his lip, having already grown tired of having to look up if he wanted to maintain eye contact.

"In here," said Carter, gesturing towards the door.

"Alright."

Steve walked through the door, with Carter following behind him. Once inside, he panned his head back and forth, trying to take everything in. It was a large office complex, with at least twenty work stations. Military officers, security guards, and people in laboratory coats were all about the place, conversing, writing and moving. On the wall at the far end was a painted symbol of an eagle emblem, with the letters 'SSR' in the centre.

Steve found himself transfixed by it all, and didn't move for a few moments. Standing behind him, Carter looked down at him with a slight frown. After a few minutes, a man with grey hair, old-style glasses and a lab coat walked up to them. He was holding a clipboard, and waved eagerly as he approached.

"Miss Carter! Good to have you back!" exclaimed the man.

Carter nodded.

"Doctor."

The man looked down at Steve with a healthy smile.

"I'll be. She did it."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Steve Rogers," said the man, extended his hand. "Welcome to the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

Steve shook the man's hand and lightly chuckled.

"I believe you have me at a disadvantage, mister . . . ."

"Oh! How rude of me. Sorry, I was just . . . . never mind. My name is Erskine. Doctor Abraham Erskine. Head Scientist of Project Pythagoras."

"Pythagoras?"

"Yes. If you'll come with me, there are some things we need to go over."

Steve held up his hands.

"Whoa, hold on a second."

Erskine raised an eyebrow.

"Can someone please let me in on what's going on? I mean . . . ."

Steve gestured towards Carter.

"Her showing up out of nowhere, everyone calling me by name, people trying to kill me, getting dragged across the ocean . . . . not that I don't appreciate the rescue, but . . . . I feel like I stepped into one of those cheap action flicks. Except the bullets are real. Look, I, I don't mean any offence, but I kinda need some questions answered."

Erskine slid his mouth to the side and looked over at Carter, who shrugged in response. He then looked back at Steve.

"Come with me. We'll speak in private. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Carter stood forward.

"As long as I come with. Colonel's orders. I don't leave Rogers' side under any circumstances."

Steve's eyes widened, turning his head to look back at her.

"Any circumstances? What if I have to go to the bathroom?"  
Carter furrowed her brow at him and folded her arms. Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

"Okay. Sorry. Just not used to being so . . . . considered."

"Come with me," said Erskine.

Erskine began walking towards the far end of the room, with Steve and Carter following. As they passed the main desk at the end of the hall, Steve took notice of an older man sitting at it, listening as a female officer spoke to him. She was pointing at a set of maps on the table, relaying information to the older man. He was in a military uniform, with several pins on the left side of his chest. He looked up for a moment to match Steve's gaze before looking back at the maps.

* * *

"Attention, please. Attention, please! We are ready to begin."

Steve opened his eyes, watching as Erskine stepped onto the platform with his microphone. Holding it in front of his face, he looked up at the observation deck. At one of the consoles was a man with a bow tie and business casual wear. He turned to Steve and gave him a wink and a thumbs up. Steve awkwardly smiled in return.

* * *

Steve and Carter followed Erskine into a meeting room. It had a plastic table, several chairs, multiple filing cabinets, and a projector screen. Once they were inside, Erskine motioned towards the chair.

"Please, take a seat."

Steve walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. Erskine looked at Carter. He blinked a couple times, but she just folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

"I'm good here."

Erskine nodded and walked to the side of the table perpendicular to where Steve was. Sitting down in a chair of his own, he then placed the clipboard on the table and folded his hands. Steve tapped the table with his hands a couple times as he waited for Erskine to settle in.

"I understand that you have been through quite the ordeal in the last few hours, Steven," started Erskine. "I wish that our meeting could have been . . . ."

The door opened, cutting him off. A man with a bow tie and business casual wear burst into the room, with dishevelled hair, which he quickly brushed his hand through a few times.

". . . . not interrupted," finished Erskine.

"Sorry, sorry," said the man. "Know me."

"Always late?" asked Carter, sardonically.

The man tilted his head and grinned.

"I was going to say always making an entrance, but your point isn't inaccurate. Well, look here. I see we got Subject Zero. Excellent."

"Subject Zero?" asked Steve.

"You're getting ahead of me, Howard," said Erskine.

"Oh. Sorry. I'll just uh . . . . be over here. You know, if you need me."

Steve looked back and forth between Erskine and Howard with a suspicious glare. Howard turned and started to walk towards Carter, but then snapped his finger and turned around.

"Oh, and uh, in case you were wondering, Steve, the name's Howard. Howard Stark."

"Right."

Howard winked, clicked his tongue and gave him a thumbs up all at the same time before turning and standing next to Carter, who looked at him with an unimpressed expression. Steve turned back to Erskine.

"Mister Stark is our primary weapons and technology supplier," explained Erskine. "His company, Stark Enterprises, is an invaluable asset to the SSR."

"Well, it's good to know that everybody already knows me," said Steve.

"I suppose that's a good place to start."

Erskine put two fingers on the clipboard and slid it in front of Steve, who looked down at the papers on it. It only took him a couple seconds of reading before he realized that they were recruitment draft applications. His recruitment draft applications.

"Uh . . . . oh. Uhm . . . . am . . . . am I in trouble?"

Erskine shrugged.

"Trouble? No. Well, technically you did break the law by falsifying information on your enlistment applications . . . ."

"I, uh . . . ."

"Relax, Steven. You aren't in trouble. That's not why you're here."

Steve scratched his forehead.

"Then . . . . why am I here? Everyone knows me. It seems like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on."

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve is a special division of the Allied military, dedicated to using some of the greatest minds in the free world to find a way to stop the Axis."

"Okay . . . . but what does that have to do with me?"

Howard softly laughed, looking over at Carter.

"That's funny."

Carter raised an eyebrow.

"He's funny," said Howard.

Carter rolled her eyes.

"One of our secret projects," continued Erskine, "is the Super Soldier Serum. A chemical formula that when introduced into the body, transforms it to the peak of human ability. Speed, strength, endurance . . . . everything at its maximum potential."

"A superhuman? Like from those newsstand comics?"

"More or less. The point is, this is a project I have been working on for . . . ."

Erskine paused and looked up at Carter for a brief moment.

". . . . for a long time. We've run into many complications, but now, we're ready for our first human trial. When I pitched this project to the Colonel, I made clear that I needed a candidate who wasn't necessarily a soldier . . . . who was something more."

Steve looked down.

"You tried to enlist in six different cities . . . . with six different backgrounds. I caught on to what you were doing fairly quickly. But that's not the point. I wanted to know why."

Steve blinked several times, taking a minute to respond.

"I guess I . . . . I guess I figured that, well . . . . it was worth it, you know?"

Steve looked into Erskine's eyes.

"I've watched the videos . . . . read the papers . . . . talked to people. I know things are bad out there . . . . and I know they're going to get a lot worse."

Carter, who had been silently looking down for the last few minutes, blinked and looked over at Steve.

"And I thought I could . . . . I don't know. Help. That's, that's all I really wanted. I have friends . . . . a friend . . . . who's out there right now. Fighting. Doing his part."

Carter raised an eyebrow. Howard put his hands in his pockets, listening intently.

"When you have something like this . . . . this, this is a defining moment. For us. All of us. And I want to do my part. I don't deserve to do any less."

Everyone in the room was looking at Steve. Erskine let a wide smile grow on his face.

"Congratulations, Steven. Welcome to Project Pythagoras."

* * *

Steve pulled himself onto the operating table. Putting his head back, he silently waited as a pair of technicians strapped him in. The material of the straps caused him to shiver when they touched his bare skin; he was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. Once they were done with the straps, the technicians stepped away as a set of injector tubes on the apparatus moved into place over Steve's arms.

"Injectors in position," said Howard. "We are cookin' with gas."

Another man sitting on the console next to Howard rolled his eyes. He had red hair and a red moustache, with glasses and a beige suit. Looking back at his console, the man turned one of the dials.

"Vitals are solid," said the man. "All checks green. We are ready for initiation on your mark, Professor."

"The serum will be injected into the subject via six nodes," said Erskine, to the observation deck. "The subject capsule will then close, and vita ray bombardment will commence to stimulate growth along the desired rates."

Erskine turned to Howard.

"We may begin."

* * *

Wincing as the needle entered his arm, Steve gritted his teeth and kept his eyes pinched shut until it was pulled out. Opening his eyes again, he looked up at the man holding the syringe; he had red hair and a red moustache, with glasses and beige suit. Carter was in the room, standing in one of the corners. Taking the needle with the blood sample away, the man returned after a few moments.

"That's the last bit," said the man. "No more needles for now."

"Thanks," replied Steve.

Erskine walked into the room, and nodded at the other man.

"Ah, there you are," said Erskine. "Samples done?"

"Yes, I uh, just need to look over . . . ."

"You said it would be done by the time I got back," said Erskine.

The man grumbled.

"Soon. It'll be done soon."

"Fine. Steven? How are you feeling?"

Steve rubbed the shoulder of the arm which had taken the needle.

"Ugh . . . . not very durable."

"Doctor Horton treating you well?"

"Huh? O-oh, I guess. Never told me his name."

Horton rubbed his forehead.

"Uh, I was focused on my work," he said. "Sorry about that. Doctor Phineas Horton."

"Pleasure," said Steve.

Another man then walked into the room. He was the older man with the military uniform from the main desk. As he walked in from behind Erskine, Carter gave him a salute.

"Colonel."

The Colonel put his hands behind his back and looked down at Steve with a somewhat contemptuous glare.

"So, you're the one who Professor Erskine has been blathering on about for weeks."

Steve's spine shivered as the Colonel addressed him.

"He can't even be bothered to send me a real soldier."

"Colonel . . . ."

"Quiet, Professor."

Erskine stepped back with a frown. Horton stayed still. Steve struggled to maintain eye contact with the Colonel.

"I'm Colonel Chester Phillips, on special assignment as director of the SSR. Lord knows I'd rather be fighting alongside my men than holding hands for the damn bureaucrats who need this to make their resumes look good. And despite Professor Erskine's proven brilliance, his obsession with you has made me wonder if this program isn't going to go down as an embarrassing waste of resources. If he didn't have backing from the administrative board and Stark . . . . well."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Colonel," responded Steve.

"I want to make things very clear, son. The only reason I haven't shipped you back stateside is because the doctors have attempted chemical bonding with numerous subjects and you're the only one whose blood melded well with the serum. We need results, and I'm not going to turn away a viable candidate because I think it's a waste of time. I've got too much invested in this. But if you don't perform to the calibre that Erskine thinks you will, you're out of here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

The Colonel turned around and marched out of the room. Horton gulped.

"I should, uh . . . . check on the samples."

Horton looked away and walked out of the room through a different door. Steve frowned.

"He seemed distracted," said Steve.

"Phineas?" asked Erskine. "He's always been a little absent minded. He was upset that the board chose my serum proposal over his android one. Still, he's a very skilled scientist."

"Huh."

* * *

The operating table apparatus began moving, so that Steve would be facing forward rather than upward. As it did, the walls of the capsule began closing around him. Before it finished closing, Steve got a glance at the observation deck, and he saw Carter, the Colonel and several other people he didn't recognize watching him. Carter gave him a subtle smile.

* * *

"I was the only subject who bonded well?"

Erskine didn't respond. They were both sitting in Steve's private quarters, Steve on the bed, and Erskine on a nearby chair. Carter was standing next to the door, which was open. Closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead for a moment, Erskine then stood up and closed the door before returning to his chair. He then looked back at Carter, who nodded at him, before turning to face Steve again.

"No," said Erskine.

"What?"

"You know the mandatory blood tests that were done during your enlistment attempts? We ordered them taken in and I tried to bond them with the serum. It melded well . . . . as did about one third of the candidates we tried."

"You lied to the Colonel?"

"We had to," said Carter. "Otherwise, he never would have allowed you to be Subject Zero."

Steve widened his eyes as he looked over at her.

"Steven," started Erskine, "you have to understand what . . . . what Project Pythagoras means. Have you heard of the Pythagorean Theorem?"

"From math class. Has to do with triangles, right?"

"Yes. Specifically, right angle triangles. The theorem states that the square of the hypotenuse of said triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the two sides forming the right angle. This is the basis for the entire project. In any candidate we need two things . . . . one, for the subject's blood to properly bond with the serum. The other . . . . is for the subject to be the sort of person who deserves to have this power."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"We need someone with both of those things . . . . the hypotenuse . . . . before we could pick a subject. The Colonel insisted on us testing on a number of his soldiers. But they're like him . . . . they mean well, certainly, but they're bullies. They don't understand that integrity, compassion . . . . those things are also important to a super soldier. If I needed just another grunt . . . . well . . . . I guess that's the difference between what I am now and . . . . what I used to be."

"What do you mean?"

"The assassins who came after you," said Carter. "The Krugers. They weren't just any Nazi agents. They were from a special black-ops division of the Reich."

Steve tilted his head.

"Hydra."

"Hydra?"

Erskine stood up and started walking around the room as he explained.

"They're used by Hitler as a secret group to perform experiments and operations that fall outside of standard military. Top secret surgical strikes. Radical scientific research. Even investigation into mysticism and the paranormal."

Erskine stopped at the window and put his hands on the frame's sill. He took a few moments before speaking again.

"And I was one of their founding members."

Steve swallowed and blinked.

"You were . . . . a Nazi?"

"Dammit, you don't think it keeps me up at night?!"

Erskine slammed his fist on the window sill before turning around.

"Yes, I was a Nazi! I did terrible things! Brutal experiments! I've made mistakes!"

Erskine took in a deep breath and lowered his voice.

"I was angry. Like most people in Germany after the war. Felt lost. Confused. The entire world hated us for something that wasn't our fault. But the victors needed a scapegoat . . . . a group to paint as the monsters, and the German people were the ones chosen. So yes, when Hitler showed up, championing a reborn Germany, I signed up."

Erskine resumed his pacing.

"I was chosen to help spearhead Hydra's science teams. The Super Soldier Serum? Project Pythagoras? It all started at Hydra. Used to be known as the 'Master Man' Project. It was an effort to give Nazi soldiers an edge over the Allies . . . . to crush the opposition with an army of superior soldiers. But as time went on . . . ."

Erskine and Carter looked at each other for a moment.

"I began realizing that . . . . this time, at least . . . . we really were the monsters."

Erskine looked at the floor for a few seconds before continuing.

"I saw what the other scientists were doing. Special projects ordered by Hydra's leader."

"Who's that?" asked Steve.

"Der Rote Schädel," responded Erskine. "The Red Skull. The most dangerous man on Earth, in my opinion. Hitler may lead the Axis powers, but the Skull . . . . the things I've seen him do will haunt me until the day I die. I've looked into his eyes . . . . and seen nothing in them. No personality. No feeling. Nothing but outright contempt for humanity itself. The things he ordered the other scientists to create . . . . the abominations growing in those labs . . . . I couldn't take it anymore."

"So what did you do?"

"I ran. Grabbed my research, burnt down my lab, and fled into the countryside, with the Skull's minions at my heels. I still remember the dogs chasing me, hounding me . . . . and then someone helped. Got me out safe."

Erskine gestured his head towards Carter.

"I was spying on Hydra's bases in Eastern Europe at the time," said Carter. "I knew about the Professor's defection. I got him out of there, and brought him here. He's been on our side ever since."

"And maybe . . . . if this turns out well . . . . if my work makes you into the soldier I believe you can be . . . . then maybe someday, I will be vindicated."

Steve looked from Erskine to Carter and back again.

"We believe in you, Steve," said Carter. "Both of us."

* * *

Steve screamed as the vita rays assaulted his entire body. His skin felt like it was flaying off, and his innards were charred masses of coal and dust. The pain was so extreme that it blinded his nerves to the point of being unable to feel anymore. For a few crucial seconds, his mind was gone. He couldn't sense anything. He felt his thoughts go silent, and his world fade to mist.

Then the capsule opened.


	4. Camp Lehigh

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 4: Camp Lehigh

Her hands still behind her back, Whitford stood at the side of the table as she listened to Peggy's story.

"What happened next?"

Peggy swallowed and groaned.

"Four months of training," answered Peggy. "Understandably, Rogers didn't have any previous combat experience. So while the serum worked in transforming him physically, he still needed to be taught how to fight . . . . how to move effectively with his new body."

"Hmmm."

Peggy blinked before continuing.

"He uh . . . . he learned fast. Was a remarkable student, even before the serum. Always surprised me how quickly he grew accustomed to new concepts. That ability to be versatile . . . . to adapt . . . . I think that was his greatest strength."

"And the Colonel?"

"Colonel Phillips was . . . . calmed, by the success. He was afraid that if Rogers didn't work out, the administrative board would shut us down. Still wasn't necessarily impressed. Rogers needed to go through combat training from scratch, and the fact that we needed to assess potential long term side-effects of the serum meant we couldn't test it on anyone else until his training was over."

Whitford narrowed her eyes, but was staring at the wall, not at Peggy.

"He was growing anxious," continued Peggy. "The Axis were making a big push in multiple theatres, and he wanted an army of super soldiers ready as soon as possible to help push back."

Whitford picked up a picture of Steve from the table. It showed him in his full costume, holding his painted shield. Printed at the bottom left of the picture was a label reading 'Taken at SSR Special Research Base, Camp Lehigh, England, June 1941.'

"And who designed all this?"

"Stark, mostly. The administrative board saw the opportunity for the first super soldier to become an icon. Rogers liked the idea. Hell, he loves baseball and his favourite food is bloody apple pie. How much more American can you get?"

"And the shield?"

"Vibranium. A portion of the small pool given as a gift to President Roosevelt by King Chanda of Wakanda. Rogers found that it fit well with how he was adapting to his personal fighting style. He's a prodigy with the damn thing."

"And you were there? For his whole training?"

"Every minute. Every day. It was my assignment."

"Never left his side?"

"It was my job to stay there."

Whitford turned her head to look at Peggy, raising an eyebrow.

"Three rules of being a bodyguard, huh?"

"Don't leave them alone. Don't let them get hurt."

"And?"

Peggy's eyes quivered.

"Don't get involved."

Whitford sighed and looked back at the wall. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again.

"After the training?"

Peggy took several seconds to respond.

"We were betrayed."

* * *

Unwrapping the last of his wrist wraps from his hands, Steve threw them in his training bag. As he walked towards the exit, he saw Carter standing in the corner of the gym room. She was wearing the same blue jacket as the day they had met. Her arms were folded and she was looking at him, but he couldn't tell if she was disinterested or actively staring.

"Miss Carter."

"Rogers."

Steve stopped walking and returned her gaze for a few seconds.

"What?" asked Carter.

"You know, I have been getting better at self-defense and combat."

"I've seen."

"No, what I, what I mean is . . . . heh, okay. Is this really necessary? You shadowing me every second of the day? I mean, sure, it's great that I don't have to strain my neck to look in your eyes anymore, but I'm still a bit surprised the whole bathroom thing wasn't a joke."

Carter sneered.

"I have an assignment, Rogers. You know that."

"No, I . . . . ugh, I mean . . . . if you don't really care, and I'm good at . . . . eh . . . ."

Carter raised an eyebrow and looked at him with her classic unimpressed face.

"That's it, right there," said Steve, pointing at her. "You give everyone that look, as if you couldn't possibly be less impressed. You give it to Stark, to me, hell, even the Colonel sometimes. Don't know why he lets it slide."

Carter didn't respond.

"And then you go silent," continued Steve, shaking his head. "You know, for a while there, at the beginning, I thought you were telling the truth with your whole 'I believe in you too' routine. But this is just another assignment for you, isn't it? Maybe you like it easy. Stay and protect the trainee on a secure base. But you don't really care."

"It's part of my job to be disinterested, Rogers. That's the point of a bodyguard. I protect you because it's my job, not because I care about your well being. You want to be a successful agent? Hmm? A good soldier? You need to learn to be disinterested, otherwise your judgement can get muddled."

"I can't do that," answered Steve. "That's exactly what Erskine wanted me not to do."

"What do you mean?"

"You let yourself become detached . . . . disinterested . . . . you take that too far and where does it leave you? No compassion. No remorse. A bully. Someone who doesn't care what they do as long as it gets the job done. Take that too far . . . . and you end up like the people we're trying to fight, rather than the ones we're trying to protect."

Carter moved her head back, but her face indicated that she was seriously considering what he had said. Steve gulped and then looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Miss Carter," he said. "I shouldn't have taken it that far. You're not . . . . you're not like that at all. I just . . . . ergh . . . ."

Sighing, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. Carter tilted her head to the side. Glancing at the ground for a moment, she then looked back up at him.

"It's Peggy."

Steve perked his head back up.

"What?"

"My nickname. It's Peggy. It's what my friends call me."

"Peggy."

"Yeah. Margaret has too many syllables for the average person, and Miss Carter is too formal. So . . . . you can call me Peggy."

Steve couldn't help but smile.

"You consider me a friend?"

Peggy playfully raised an eyebrow.

"Slow down, Rogers. Don't get too ahead of yourself. In time."

"In time? Is that a promise?"

Peggy shook her head.

"I don't like to make promises."

Steve and Peggy maintained silent eye contact for several more seconds until the whole room rumbled at the sound of an explosion. Steve darted his head around in confusion. Peggy immediately pulled out her pistol, looking at the door. An alarm then sounded.

"What's happening?" asked Steve.

"Nothing good."

* * *

Morita's eyes widened as he watched a missile strike the guard tower. It was engulfed in a ball of fire, with the metal instantaneously melting into heaps of slag. Instinctively lowering his head and clutching his rifle with a firm grip, he turned his head to where the missile came from.

Three green helicopters were approaching the base. Each one had a red logo painted on the side. It was composed of a skull with six tentacles protruding from it. The helicopters began firing more missiles into the base, some striking the ground and others striking the infrastructure. Within moments the troops on the ground began scattering in disarray, and the alarm sounded.

As Morita backpedalled away from the incoming aerial assault, he also noticed multiple tanks moving in from the road. They were at least six metres tall, and had a turret section with two frontal cannons. They had the same colour scheme as the helicopters, with the same logo. The tank closest to the base began firing cannon blasts into the camp, blowing apart one of the convoy trucks. Several guards who tried to stand their ground were cut down by machine gun fire from the tanks.

Moving back and getting behind a set of supply crates, Morita crouched and placed his assault rifle atop a crate to stabilize it. He watched as troops began to march into the camp, as well as some rappelling from the helicopters. They wore dark green combat suits and battle helmets, but were distinguished from German soldiers he had seen before by their use of what looked to be stylized gas masks. Most of them were carrying assault rifles, shotguns or sniper rifles; one of the soldiers was wielding a flamethrower, which she used to spray down another truck with a stream of fire.

Taking close aim through his iron sights, Morita closed one eye as he place his cross-hairs on her fuel pack. Firing a three shot burst, he grinned as he saw a puncture in the tank lead to it exploding, blowing her and several nearby enemy soldiers to smithereens.

"Defensive positions! Push them back!"

The shock having worn off, dozens of defending soldiers began their counterattack. A violent firefight stormed across the main courtyard of the camp, with the aggressors slowly but persistently taking ground. Morita was providing covering fire for a nearby squad when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, an enemy soldier flanking him from the other side.

He quickly tried to turn to face him, but the soldier, wielding a stun baton latched to his wrist, knocked Morita's rifle out of his hands. The soldier then pulled his baton back for a thrust strike.

"Hail Hydra!"

Morita tried to anticipate where his foe was going to strike so that he could dodge, but it was unnecessary when the Hydra soldier was bashed over the side of the head with the back of a shotgun. He crumpled against the crates as the man who attacked him spit on the ground and looked at Morita.

"Always saving your ass, huh?" asked Gabe.

"It's an ass worth saving," retorted Morita.

"Hah!"

Morita picked his rifle off the ground as Gabe covered him. After tapping him on the shoulder, Gabe led Morita back towards the main complex.

"Hey! Where we going? The fight's here!"

"Science facility," responded Gabe. "They're hitting from both sides."

* * *

"Grenade!"

An explosion sent the shredded body of a soldier against the wall as Steve and Peggy rushed into the room. Some of the soldier's blood splattered on Steve's white shirt and beige cargo pants. Despite him holding his shield, Peggy still held him at bay with her left arm while she aimed her pistol with her right.

"Get back!"

After she fired a shot, Steve looked around the corner to see a bloodied soldier falling to the ground. Peggy walked up to the downed soldier and fired two more rounds into his chest.

"Hydra," said Peggy. "Wonderful."

Another explosion was heard, and Steve and Peggy saw more Hydra soldiers entering into the facility through the windows near the balcony. Multiple guards were cut down by surprise attacks, before one of them took a Hydra soldier down with a shot through the neck. Peggy exhaled as Steve placed his shield in the holster on his back.

"We're getting to the exit, fast and quiet. Stay behind me and try not to get shot."

"Leaving? We need to help!"

Peggy sternly shook her head.

"No. Colonel's orders. My priority is you. Everyone else here is not my concern."

Peggy turned away but was stopped by Steve grabbing her by the shoulder.

"Are you crazy?! These are our allies you're talking about!"

Peggy violently shrugged his hand off of her shoulder before giving him a surly glare.

"Mind your tone, Rogers, or you might just find out . . . ."

Peggy broke off her sentence to take aim and fire at another incoming Hydra soldier, putting a bullet through his knee. She then tapped Steve's shoulder with her fist, beckoning him to follow her.

"Come on! You can give me your damn lecture when we survive this mess!"

After stalling for a moment, Steve began following her. He glanced back at the fighting on the balcony before sighing and following her into another hallway. As she kept marching forward, he looked to the left, which led to the laboratory. Stopping and looking back and forth for a moment, he then tore into a sprint down the left hallway.

"Rogers? Rogers!"

Shoulder ramming down a set of double doors, Steve continued to barrel down the hallway to the lab. After bursting inside, he saw that almost all of the equipment was on fire, and pieces of furniture were torn apart and littered around the room.

"Professor?!" called Steve. "Professor!"

Steve heard coughing and hacking coming from within the room, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from. He kicked a cabinet out of his way as he darted his eyes around the room.

"Professor?"

"Get . . . . back . . . ."

"Professor!"

His hands in front of his face as he walked, Steve then saw Erskine huddled on the floor, with one hand clinging to a doorknob. He was on his knees, and was coughing into his coat. Steve's eyes widened upon seeing the figure of a woman calmly approaching him. She was wearing a stylized SS uniform and a gas mask, with all the pieces of her outfit being tinted various shades of green.

She whipped her emerald hair around before looking down at Erskine, pulling a blade from her belt. Steve groaned as he tried to move towards them. Peggy ran into the room, but was stunned by a waft of dust and ash, momentarily impeding her movement.

"Doctor," said Ophelia.

She reached down and seized Erskine by the throat, pulling him to his feet. She then placed her head on his shoulder.

"The Red Skull sends his regards," she whispered into his ear.

Ophelia violently plunged her knife into Erskine's chest, and Steve yelled. Tearing the knife out, she then looked over at Steve with her vibrant, viridian eyes. For a few seconds, they stared at each other, and Steve felt her piercing, contemptuous gaze send shivers crawling along his skin.

"And you must be Erskine's pet. Rogers."

"Who are you?"

"The messenger, Herr Rogers. And my message is . . . . stay out of this. You cannot stop the power of Hydra. No one can."

Ophelia reached for her belt again.

"Steve! Get down!"

Steve ducked upon hearing Peggy's words. Pulling a grenade from her belt, Ophelia then tossed it behind her with a sinister grin, blowing apart a large section of the far wall. Peggy fired at her, but Ophelia laughed and performed an acrobatic cartwheel to dodge the shot before breaking into a run out of the new exit.

"Dammit!"

Steve ran to Erskine, who was bleeding out on the floor. Kneeling beside him and cradling his body in his arms, Steve saw that Erskine's chest and arms were drenched in blood.

"Professor . . . ."

"Listen . . . . to me . . . ."

Erskine coughed again.

"It was . . . . H-Horton . . . . betrayed us . . . . stop him . . . ."

"Stay with me!"

"Go, Steve . . . . I . . . . I'm d-done . . . ."

Steve found himself frozen, unable to do anything but shake his head.

"Re . . . . Remem . . . . ber . . . . who . . . . b-bel . . . . ieved . . . . in you . . . ."

Erskine let out a soft sigh and fell still. Peggy approached Steve and put her hand on his shoulder as a handful of tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Steve . . . ."

He didn't reply.

"We've got to go."

A loud crashing noise was heard, startling both Steve and Peggy. Several flaming pieces of debris fell from the ceiling, blocking the route to Ophelia's exit. Peggy helped Steve to his feet before hearing a familiar voice.

"Hey! Hey! Anyone in there?"

"Gabe?" asked Peggy.

"Hello?!"

"Gabe! It's Peggy! We're here!"

"Peggy?"

One of the wooden columns shattered, exposing the hole in the wall. Both Gabe and Morita were standing on the other side.

"Come on!" yelled Morita, waving an arm.

Steve and Peggy ran out of the building as the fire continued to spread. Gabe smiled at Peggy.

"Damn good to see you alive, Peg."

"Almost wasn't," retorted Peggy, as she reloaded her pistol.

"What the hell's going on?!" asked Morita. "How'd they do this?"

Steve was staring at the ground with a scowl on his face when he answered.

"It was Horton."

Everyone looked at Steve with raised eyebrows.

"What?" asked Peggy.

"It was Horton," repeated Steve. "Erskine told me before he died. He betrayed us. Helped Hydra."

"He defect?" asked Gabe.

"Must have."

"Slimy bastard," said Morita.

Peggy then looked up, and pointed into the sky.

"There!"

Everyone looked up to see one of the Hydra helicopters flying out of the compound. The side hatch was open, and both Ophelia and Horton were standing there, flanked by multiple Hydra soldiers. The hatch then closed shut, and it was only a few moments before the helicopter flew over the treeline and out of sight.


	5. Enlistment

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 5: Enlistment

"Status of the base?"

"Total loss," replied the lieutenant. "Buildings, personnel, equipment . . . . whole place was burned down. Nothing left but rubble and smoke."

"Dammit."

The Colonel was facing the map of Europe pinned to the wall. It had a handful of locations circled with red, felt tip marker. He was staring at the location with an X over it. Fuming for a few seconds, he then slammed a fist down on the table. After that, he began pacing in front of the people in the room, including Steve, Peggy, Howard and several other soldiers and officers.

"Anything captured?"

"No. Equipment all self-destructed. Even the tanks. And the few Hydra soldiers we did get alive all had cyanide capsules."

The Colonel gestured to the group of people in front of him.

"This is all that made it out?"

"Yes, sir. A couple more are in medical."

"Erskine?"

The lieutenant shook his head.

"The research? Samples?"

"Destroyed in the lab," answered Peggy. "The information on that base was top secret. No backups were at any other facilities. All the notes, samples and equipment burned up with the lab."

The Colonel looked down at the floor.

"Fuck."

He looked back up at Steve.

"So . . . . you're all I've got. Beautiful. I dump untold amounts of time, money and manpower into this bullshit project and all I get out of it is one untrained soldier. I lose my top scientist because another one turns out to be a defector. And now, the entire Reserve is at risk of collapsing! Unbelievable."

Steve gulped and looked at the floor. Peggy glanced at him with somber eyes, but did not speak.

Howard rubbed his left forearm with his right hand.

"How did this even happen?!" shouted the Colonel. "We're on English soil! How did Horton do it?"

Howard cleared his throat.

"Far as we can tell . . . . he shorted out the main communications tower. Probably killed the operators so we wouldn't pick up the incoming vehicles on sensors. Helicopters would have no problem flying to the mainland, but as for the tanks . . . . there must have been other people in on it. Only thing that makes sense."

Peggy looked at Howard.

"Not so sure about that, Stark. Even the helicopters would have been detected by someone else crossing international borders. And you couldn't smuggle tanks onto the shore unless they paid off a whole docking crew, and who would they find for help if they're Nazis?"

"These aren't just any Nazis, Miss Carter," said the Colonel. "They're Hydra."

"I know. Which makes me believe that this wasn't en masse betrayal. Horton may have helped them somehow, but I think they've probably have some advanced tech that got them onto the mainland undetected. Hydra's got a monopoly on the most brilliant scientists across all the Axis nations. We should know. We stole their best one."

"We're aware, trust me," replied the Colonel. "Our focus was on the scientists. The Skull's forces are nothing without the tech to back them up. You saw their weapons. We were probably targeted because we'd been making precision strikes across Western Europe, trying to capture several of Hydra's top researchers. So far, it hasn't gone as smoothly as we'd hoped."

"What happened?" asked Steve, perking up his head.

The Colonel groaned under his breath upon being spoken to by Steve, but reluctantly answered after a few seconds of pause.

"Some of our insertion teams have lost contact. We've confirmed them killed in action aside from one, a team of handpicked soldiers from the 107th division. They were in Luxembourg, trying to extract the head of Hydra's science division, Doctor Arnim Zola."

Steve's eyes widened.

"The 107th? Was James Barnes on the team?"

The Colonel narrowed his eyes.

"Sergeant Barnes? Yeah, he was leading the team. I was the one who assigned him to the mission after seeing him in action. You know him?"

"He's a friend."

The Colonel's face softened.

"I'm sorry."

Steve started breathing more heavily, shaking his head as he did so.

"But you don't know that they're dead yet. They can be rescued, right?!"

"We can't establish contact. No contact, no extraction. We haven't heard from that team in days. Intel can look, but we can't send anyone in without a location. It's too dangerous. Last we heard, they had made it to Diekirch, but . . . ."

Steve put both of his palms on his forehead. Peggy took a step towards him.

"Steve . . . ."

"Let me go after them," said Steve to the Colonel.

"Absolutely not. You're getting shipped to a new science facility, back on American soil. They're going to run tests and see if we can get the formula from your blood."

Steve and Peggy both glared at the Colonel.

"What?!" they shouted in unison.

"You were a trial run, nothing more," said the Colonel. "I need platoons of super soldiers, not one test subject!"

"I can help! Let me try and get your team back . . . ."

"It's over!" shouted the Colonel.

Steve took a step back in alarm at the volume of the Colonel's voice.

"You're not fighting! You are the last chance the Allies have for getting the advantage we need. We are losing this war, and that formula was supposed to help turn the tide. Instead, we lost some of the most vital personnel and research data we had. And you're thinking about one squad?!"

The Colonel stepped up to Steve, his nostrils flaring.

"I get that Sergeant Barnes is your friend, but this is war, son. And in war, you have to make sacrifices. Soldiers understand that. But you're no soldier."

The Colonel then exhaled and returned to the desk. Steve looked back at the red X on the map pinned to the wall.

"No. I guess I'm not."

Steve turned and walked out of the room. Peggy paused for a moment before following him.

"Pack everything up, Lieutenant," ordered the Colonel. "We're leaving at oh-eight hundred."

"Sir."

* * *

"Argh!"

Steve threw a punch at the wall of the empty hallway he was in, denting and fracturing a large section. Leaning against it on his elbow, he buried his face into his arm. Breathing heavily for several moments, he didn't notice Peggy walking into the hall and approaching him.

"Steve?"

Steve didn't respond. Peggy sighed and watched him for a few minutes until he spoke.

"What am I supposed to do? Bucky's in danger, and . . . . Erskine's dead, and . . . ."

"It's not your fault."

Steve pushed himself off the wall, but kept his eyes closed as he shook his head.

"No. Maybe not. But I can't help."

Steve yelled again as he kicked the wall, putting his foot right through it. Bits of dust and drywall stuck to the material of his pant leg.

"That's what . . . . dammit . . . . I just . . . . just want to . . . ."

Steve sighed and waved down his hand in a dismissive gesture, turning away from Peggy.

"There's nothing I can do now."

"You think this is what Erskine would have wanted?" asked Peggy, folding her arms. "To see you drown yourself in doubt?"

"No."

"Then pick yourself up, and . . . ."

Steve turned around and glared at Peggy.

"What the hell do you want from me?! You heard the Colonel back there! The program's dead! Erskine's dead! They're leaving Bucky to die! And I can't do . . . ."

Peggy took a step forward, matching Steve's glare.

"Stow it, Rogers! I'm not going to listen to this crap any longer!"

Steve's face indicated he was taken aback by Peggy's tone.

"You're upset, I get it. You feel helpless. You want to do more. But you're not going to get out of this situation by yelling and beating up hallways."

"What are . . . ."

"I'm not done. Yes, it's true. Hydra nailed us to the wall. Erskine's dead, and we can't change that. But you're still here. I'm still here. We're not out yet. You can still make a difference."

"How? The Colonel's going to ship me away! Lock me up in some lab."

"Do you want to help your friend?"

Steve was silent.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then meet me in the hangar in ten minutes. And pack your uniform."

* * *

"Colonel!"

The Colonel jerked his head to the left upon seeing his lieutenant burst into his office.

"What is it?"

"We have an unauthorized departure! Someone's taking off from the hangar!"

"What the . . . ."

The Colonel leaped out of his chair and followed the lieutenant, both of them running down the hall. A couple of minutes later, they arrived in the hangar alongside numerous other soldiers who had their weapons ready. One of the planes was powered up and starting to leave. The Colonel grabbed a bullhorn from the equipment rack and placed it in front of his mouth.

"Attention! This is an unauthorized departure! Stand down and surrender immediately, or we will open fire!"

The Colonel waited a couple seconds before hearing a familiar voice over the loudspeaker.

"I would advise against firing, Colonel," said Peggy. "Steve Rogers is aboard."

"What the . . . . what the hell are you doing, Carter?!"

"Taking matters into my own hands."

"You're violating a direct order from a superior officer, and you're not trained as a pilot. Stand down, now!"

The Colonel was then stunned by a different voice taking over.

"Actually," said Howard, "I'm the one flying this plane. Miss Carter and Steve Rogers are my passengers."

"Stark?! Shut that plane down, now!"

"No can do, Colonel," said Peggy. "Mister Stark is a civilian, and thus outside the military chain of command. You can't give him orders. These planes are technically his company property, and thus, he is allowed to use them as he sees fit. As well, since Steve Rogers has yet to be officially enlisted in the armed service, he too is a civilian."

"Listen here, Miss . . . ."

"And I'm on special assignment, remember? Under no circumstances am I to leave Steve Rogers' side. I believe those were your exact words. Where he goes, I go."

"Carter! Dammit, I'll . . . ."

"Have a good day, Colonel."

The plane took off, heading out of the hangar. One of the soldiers looked up at the Colonel.

"Sir? Do we open fire?"

The Colonel sneered.

"No. Stand down."

The soldiers watched as the plane lifted off into the air. The Colonel then threw the bullhorn against the concrete hangar wall, smashing it to pieces.

* * *

"How you doin' back there, Steve?"

Steve was sitting on the bench at the side of the plane, his hands held together. He was wearing the uniform that had been designed for him, and had his shield latched to his back. His helmet was at his side. Peggy was sitting across from him.

"He's alright, Stark," said Peggy.

"Gotcha."

Steve and Peggy were silent for several more minutes.

"Not used to this sort of thing, are you?"

"Not really," said Steve.

He then smirked and looked at her.

"This is the second time you've whisked me away in some getaway vehicle."

"At least no one was shooting us this time."

"They almost did."

"Almost. But they didn't."

Steve and Peggy shared a short laugh.

* * *

Horton felt himself keeping track of how loudly he was breathing as he walked down the hall of the Hydra facility. He knew he didn't really have anything to worry about; they had bothered to extract him alive from Camp Lehigh, and so they obviously wanted him to stay around. Still, he found himself switching between sweating and shivering as he was escorted through the base, for Ophelia was the only person he had seen who was not wearing a stylized gas mask.

Stealing a glance at one of the soldiers at his side, he saw that the uniforms for both genders were essentially the same. The soldier to his right was a woman, who marched with a cold confidence he wasn't expecting. The only skin he could see was a small bit surrounding her eyes. It was not enough for him to not have difficulty seeing her as a human being. All of the Hydra soldiers seemed so devoid of emotion. They were like robots.

Ophelia was at the front of the escort. When they finally reached their destination, she turned around.

"You two, dismissed."

The Hydra soldiers saluted and walked away. Horton massaged his hands together.

"Professor, step inside."

She gestured towards the double door behind her. Nodding multiple times, Horton then pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The room beyond was a meeting room, with a long conference table and many elegant chairs, most empty. At the far end of the table was a single man in a black uniform, eating a steak dinner. A glass of red wine was next to his plate. The wine had the same hue as the skin on his face.

Ophelia followed Horton into the room, but he didn't move towards Schmidt, who eventually looked up at his guests.

"Ah, Professor."

Horton gulped.

"Please, come. Have a seat. You are an honoured guest this evening."

Wiping his forehead, Horton nodded multiple times again before walking down the length of the table, shadowed by Ophelia. Horton walked up to the chair next to Schmidt, which Ophelia pulled out for him. She smiled at him as she motioned for him to sit down. Despite all the accommodation, Horton still couldn't shake off his nerves.

"I hope I am not making you uncomfortable, Professor," said Schmidt, as Horton sat down. "Such an esteemed guest should never feel uncomfortable in my presence."

"N-no, no," replied Horton. "I'm . . . . I'm fine."

"Ausgezeichnet."

As Schmidt took a sip from his wine glass, a blonde woman with curly hair, blue eyes and a white chef's uniform with a Hydra logo on each shoulder walked in with a silver platter. She wordlessly placed it in front of Horton, and pulled off the lid to reveal a warm, juicy sirloin on a porcelain plate. She put a glass of wine next to it and left the room.

"I hope your meal is to your tastes, Professor."

Horton picked up the utensils and gave a weak smile to Schmidt. He began cutting off a piece, his hands shaking as he did so. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Schmidt than looked up at Ophelia, who was still standing with her hands behind her back.

"Madame. Report."

"Erskine is dead. We did not have time to obtain the research data, so we destroyed everything we could. The boy may still be alive."

"It does not matter now," replied Schmidt. "Without Erskine or his research, the Allies supposed science division has nothing. One lone soldier is worthless. Not against the weapons we now possess. What about the others?"

"Strucker reported back," continued Ophelia. "His troops are progressing as scheduled. Zemo and Whitehall are working well together, all things considered. Still no word on Zola. Last intelligence we received states that he may have been captured in Luxembourg."

"Disappointing."

Horton lifted a piece of the steak into his mouth using his fork, biting into it. His teeth ripped into the flesh, piercing it and allowing the bloodied juices to trickle against his tongue. Chewing slowly, he savoured the taste before swallowing. Schmidt looked at Horton with a raised eyebrow.

"How is it?"

Horton finally felt his nerves settle.

"Damn good."

Schmidt nodded in approval before looking at Ophelia again.

"Madame, you are dismissed. I want updates on all operations by this time tomorrow."

"Understood."

Ophelia turned away and marched out of the meeting hall. After they were done eating, Schmidt beckoned Horton to stand up and walk over to the next room, which was his personal office. The destroyed furniture had since been replaced.

"I'm glad that we could help each other, Professor. Hydra has need of exceptional thinkers like you. Men and women of vision who are able to see past the shackles of the past."

Horton silently listened.

"Your colleague, Doctor Erskine, unfortunately lost sight of our goals. I expect that our relationship will end on more agreeable terms."

"I hope so."

"Yes."

Schmidt sat down in his chair. Pressing a small button under his desk, one of the walls retracted into the floor, revealing a transparent containment cell. Horton's eyes widened upon seeing the creature inside.

It was humanoid, but only just. Large parts of its skeleton were visible, with serrated bones protruding from the joints. It had no skin; rather, all of the flesh and musculature was perfectly visible, with some sections charred and bloodied. Hunched over and salivating blood, it then turned over to look at Horton.

Its face had a T-shaped slit where the mouth should be, with four blade-like teeth on each side. What really stood out were its eyes: they were shrivelled, black voids, with brightly glowing red pupils in the centre. It emitted a piercing shriek, which was the most inhuman noise Horton had ever heard. He felt like the blood in his veins stopped upon hearing it.

The creature leaped at the wall of the container, smacking its face against it and bouncing off. It began emitting more guttural sounds as it scrapped its claws against the walls and floor, sniffing around as it did so.

"One of our creations," said Schmidt. "What you're looking at is our most promising weapon."

"W-wha . . . . what i-is it?"

"We call it . . . . a bloodhound."

The creature shrieked again, its dead eyes staring directly at Horton's heart.


	6. Rescue Rangers

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 6: Rescue Rangers

Keeping her head low, Natalie found the right balance of crouching and running to maximize her speed. Vaulting over a smashed chunk of concrete that used to be a wall, she then ducked behind it as cover, turning her head to look over at one of the nearby buildings. Three German soldiers burst out of the door on the building's side, with the lead soldier spotting her.

"Halt!"

Natalie flicked the switch on the detonator in her hand.

"Heil this, assholes."

Her sentence was immediately followed by a large explosion that shattered the foundation of the building. A wave of flame engulfed the soldiers, incinerating their bodies before they had time to react. The remaining pillars of the structure buckled under the weight, and the second floor began caving into itself. Natalie got out of cover and ran away as large swaths of dust and ash filled the air.

Weaving through the decaying alleyways of the town, she found her way into an abandoned diner. Debris and garbage littered the floor, with much of the furniture destroyed or otherwise in disarray. Many of the windows were cracked or outright broken, and numerous bottles, glasses and plates were smashed, with their pieces strewn about the place.

Taking care to avoid stepping on anything that might cause a loud noise, she made her way to the back room, which contained a wooden staircase. Climbing up it, she arrived on the second floor, which formed a makeshift apartment. Carefully stepping over the tripwire fashioned to the top of the staircase, she entered one of the rooms and looked inside.

A man was near the window, laying in a prone position. He had dark, dishevelled hair, a toned frame, and dirt on his face. He was wearing a blue jacket, grey pants, and black combat boots. He was peering through a sniper rifle, utterly still. When Natalie took a step into the room, he jerked his head around and aimed a pistol at her. His aim was wobbly; his hand was quivering. She quickly put up her hands.

"Hold it, killer," said Natalie. "It's me."

Bucky stared at her for a moment, seemingly confused. Blinking twice, he then let out a breath and lowered the pistol.

"Nat. H-Hey. Sorry, uh . . . . sorry."

Bucky shook his head a few times, with small batches of sweat and dirt flinging off his face. Wiping his forehead with the cold steel of his pistol, he then put it back on the wood floor and took in another breath. Natalie narrowed her eyes in concern upon hearing how stifled his nasal passages were. He turned back to his sniper rifle, but didn't look through the scope.

"That . . . . uh . . . . explosion. Few minutes ago, I think. That you?"

"Yeah. Mapping out the other side of town all day. Got caught by a Jerry patrol. Luckily, had a C3 trap already planted. Gave those guys a plastic surprise."

"Good . . . .good."

"You hear anything from Dugan's squad?"

Bucky was silent for a few moments before shaking his head. Natalie sighed.

"You alright, killer? Look like you ain't slept in days."

"Uh . . . . yeah. No. I haven't. Not in, um . . . . uh . . . . three, maybe four? Not sure. Time's all blurry right now."

Natalie took a step toward him.

"Buck . . . . you need to stop. You're gonna knock yourself out."

"Can't. Gotta focus."

Bucky reached for the rifle, his hands shaking profusely. He groaned, obviously straining himself with the effort. She walked up to him, and tenderly placed her gloved hand on his.

"Buck."

"Wha-What?"

"Listen, killer. You've got to give it a rest. You're gonna burn out, hear me? Get some shut eye. You'll feel better. We need you at top shape, not running on fumes."

"I . . . . uh . . . . yeah. Alright."

Natalie nodded as Bucky pushed himself off the ground. He staggered over to the next room, which had a bed composed of a rusted metal frame and a soiled mattress. He clambered onto it and rested on his side. It only took a couple of minutes to close his eyes and doze off.

Sighing in relief, Natalie stepped into the washroom. The tiles on the floor were broken, and grime was building in crevices along the walls. The light fixture on the ceiling was non-functional and dangling by a single wire. Reluctantly relieving herself in the decrepit toilet, she then stripped off her gloves and washed her hands in the sink, which thankfully still had running water.

After taking off her helmet and placing it on the floor beside her, she grasped the edges of the sink with both hands and looked into the cracked mirror. Her curled, blonde hair was messy and caked in soot. The skin around her eyes was chapped; scars had taken shape along the bones in her cheeks. The colours in her lips had long faded. The only part of her visage not marred were her bright, azure pupils.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she then sat down on the floor, her back to the wall. For multiple hours, she just sat there, in silence. She drifted in and out of consciousness until she heard the sound of someone stepping on one of the pieces of glass on the floor below. She then heard a faint voice speak.

"Shit!"

Natalie quickly pulled her pistol from its holster and took cover at the top of the staircase. Waiting for the footsteps to reach the stairs, she took a peek around the corner. Upon seeing who it was, she lowered her gun.

"Falsworth?"

"Nat? That you?"

Natalie stepped into view. She smiled at Falsworth, who was wearing his brown jacket, red beret, and holding his carbine rifle.

"What happened? Where are the others?"

Falsworth shook his head.

"Only Dugan and I made it back. But we found him."

Natalie's eyes perked up.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Warehouse facility not far from here. Heard the Jerries talking about how he was inside."

"So where's Dugan?"

Falsworth smirked.

"Parking."

"Parking? Parking what?"

"The tank we stole."

A second later, she could hear the distinct rumbling of a German tank as it approached the building. Natalie and Falsworth shared a short laugh when suddenly they were both startled by an explosion, followed by multiple streams of gunfire.

* * *

"Looks like they're in trouble."

Checking his pistol again, Steve barely heard Peggy's words. They were both in an abandoned church, crouched near a balcony. They could see the building where Bucky's team was stationed; Peggy had confirmed their presence with a pair of binoculars. Just after finding them, a German tank had pulled up to the side of the building when several squads of German soldiers opened fire on the place.

Peggy looked over at Steve, an eyebrow raised. He checked his pistol again. Watching him for a moment, she then reached out and put her hand on his. He looked at her in confusion.

"We can do this."

Steve looked at her for a few moments before nodding. She nodded in return. The two then vaulted over the edge of the balcony, landing behind one of the attacking German squads. Three soldiers, all wielding K98 Mauser rifles, were facing away from them, shooting at Bucky's building.

Approaching from behind, Peggy grabbed the neck of the soldier furthest to the right, pulling it from both sides and snapping it clean. Steve smashed his shield over the skull of the soldier furthest to the left, knocking him against the wall, his crushed helmet breaking through the skin on his head. The middle soldier turned in surprise, but had no time to react before Peggy whipped out her pistol and shot him in the throat.

"Come on," said Peggy, turning to move down to the next room.

Steve took a moment to look at the bodies of the German soldiers before following her.

* * *

"Chew on this, Kraut!"

Dugan squeezed the main trigger on his Panzer tank, firing a shell blast directly at the enemy side of the street. The resulting explosion of concrete and wood blew apart a large section of a convenience store, taking two Germans with it. He unloaded with the machine gun turrets, stripping the remaining Germans of their cover and riddling their bodies with bullets.

Allowing the adrenaline to take over, Dugan did not see the German soldier flanking him and holding a bazooka until he was ready to fire.

"Oh, mother . . . ."

Scrambling out of his seat, Dugan punched open the tank's hatch and leaped out of it as the bazooka blast shredded the armour on the right side of the tank. Being blown away by the explosion, Dugan's body slammed against a brick wall. Cradling his ribcage with one arm and holding on to his bowler hat with his other one, he tried to move but found himself crippled by the pain.

Dugan watched as the German soldier dropped the bazooka and swapped it for his rifle before calmly approaching him. Wincing at him but unable to move, Dugan looked up at the soldier.

"Hey, Fritz," said Dugan. "Gimme a minute. Be right with ya."

The soldier scoffed before aiming his rifle at Dugan's head. No sooner had he done so that his own helmet shattered with the force of a painted shield striking it. Dugan's eyes widened as he saw the soldier crumple to the ground, and the shield bounce off a wall and return to the one who threw it.

Catching the shield, Steve then ran up to Dugan, holding out a hand.

"Are you wounded, soldier?"

"Yeah," replied Dugan as Steve helped him to his feet. "Might need my eyes checked. Not sure I'm believing what I'm seeing. Who the hell are you?"

"Steve Rogers."

"Huh. I was thinking something along the lines of Sergeant Stars and Stripes. You know, to match your outfit."

Peggy rushed to Steve's side, patting him on the back with her fist so that he knew she was there. She fired off a couple of pistol shots before turning to Dugan.

"Were you with Sergeant Barnes' squad?" asked Peggy.

"Yeah. Timothy Dugan, ma'am."

"Get him inside."

Steve helped Dugan into the diner as Peggy covered their backs. Once they were in, they saw two Germans storming up the wooden staircase, too preoccupied to even notice them. A moment later, they heard a shout and an explosion, and one of the shredded German bodies flew back and smashed against the back wall of the staircase.

Another set of two soldiers tried to enter the diner, but Peggy's pistol shots kept them at bay. One of the Germans peeked in, and looked at Steve, obviously perplexed by his garb.

"Who the hell is that supposed to be?!" shouted the German. "Captain America?"

"Who cares?!" yelled his partner. "Shoot him!"

The first soldier stepped into the door and unleashed a wild salvo of fire from his MP40 submachine gun. Steve stood in front of Peggy and Dugan, bracing himself with his shield, which easily deflected the shots. The German gasped in surprise, giving Steve the momentary reprieve he needed to charge forward and bash his shield into the enemy's sternum. His partner looked down at him in shock.

"Hans!"

Enraged, the second German tried to smash the butt of his gun against the shield, but Steve was too quick; he grabbed the gun and twisted it out of the soldier's grasp before flipping him over his shoulder. He finished the second soldier with a knockout punch while he was on the ground before turning back to Peggy and Dugan.

"Up the stairs! Go!"

The three ran up the stairs, as Dugan called out.

"Falsworth! Lorraine!"

"Dugan?"

Dugan was the first to arrive at the top, and Falsworth let out a laugh upon seeing his friend.

"Dugan? Still among the living?"

"Was there any doubt?"

"You crazy son of a bitch. I thought you were mulch when I heard that bazooka go off. Normally I'd say you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days, but you're too damn thickheaded to know when you're licked."

Peggy and Steve turned the corner, walking into the room. When they did, Falsworth and Natalie looked at them with raised eyebrows. Bucky was facing the window, holding his sniper rifle. After firing a shot and pulling back the bolt-action handle, he turned to face them as well, his eyes instantly falling on Steve.

"Who are . . . ."

"Bucky."

"Steve?"

Natalie looked over at Bucky.

"You know him?"

"Steve? It can't be . . . ."

Steve took off his helmet, revealing his face.

"Bucky. It's me."

"What happened to you? And what are you wearing?"

"Uh . . . . we might want to talk about that once we're out of a warzone. Bit of a long story."

Peggy took a step forward.

"I'm Margaret Carter, with the Strategic Scientific Reserve. This is Steve Rogers. We know you were sent here by Colonel Phillips."

"You're soldiers?"

"Damn right," said Dugan. "Saved my skin out there. Saved all our asses, you ask me."

"We're here to get you out," said Peggy.

"Get us out?"

"We lost all contact. We assumed you were in trouble."

"Bugger all, we are," said Falsworth. "You hadn't shown up, we'd be dead. We've been stuck in this town for days."

"But we can't abandon our mission now," stated Bucky. "We've found Arnim Zola. Hydra's top scientist."

"You have confirmation on his location?" asked Peggy.

"Yes," answered Falsworth. "Warehouse facility not far from here. Walking distance, but there might still be enemy patrols in the area."

"Without Zola, Hydra's science division will be in disarray," explained Bucky. "We have to get him. I hope you have an extraction plan."

"Yes," said Peggy. "Civilian plane not far from here. Landed in the agricultural fields."

"Alright then. We head for the warehouse. Falsworth, you take point."

Falsworth nodded.

"The rest of us shadow him and get out of town," Bucky continued. "No doubt more Kraut patrols will be headed this way after all the commotion we raised. We get to that warehouse, we grab Zola, and we book it to your plane."

"Got it," said Natalie.

"Sounds good to me," said Dugan.

"Then move out!"

Falsworth took off first, quickly descending the stairs. Natalie and Dugan followed him shortly after. Before they left, Bucky looked at Steve.

"And Steve?"

"Yeah."

"Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Buck."

* * *

"Stand back."

Everyone got behind cover at Natalie's suggestion. Giving a mischievous grin, she pressed her detonator, and the steel door exploded. Dugan and Falsworth charged into the room first, followed by the rest of the team. They lowered their weapons once they saw what was inside.

"What the . . . . hell?"

The room was large and mostly empty. There were no furnishings, windows or decor outside of the contraption in the middle. It was a hospital wheelchair, hooked up to several IVs and other medical equipment. A television screen was also attached to the back of the chair by a metal pole, hanging over the head of the man sitting in it. The screen displayed his heart rate and other medical data.

He was a tiny, old man, with heavy wrinkles and liver spots all over. He had a translucent oxygen mask over his face, and a blanket covering his body. His head was hanging down, and his breath was audibly laboured. The beeping of his slow heart rate on the monitor set everyone on edge.

"This is Zola?" asked Natalie.

"Looks like he's half in the grave," said Dugan. "Not much left to capture."

"I don't understand," said Falsworth. "Intel said he was a priority target. If he's dying . . . ."

"Fools," said a computerized voice, with a thick Swiss accent.

The whole team was startled and looked around for a few moments before collectively realizing the voice was coming from the computer screen, which morphed from the statistics page to a green, flickering image of Zola's face. It was difficult to make out; it looked like a hazy circle with glasses.

"Simpletons. Incompetents."

"Is that thing . . . . talking?" asked Bucky.

"Sounds like," replied Steve.

"Yes, I speak. I am superior. I am the voice of eternity. I am intelligence immortalized. I am Arnim Zola."

Everyone was silent for a few moments. Steve then stepped forward.

"Ah . . . . . you are Steve Rogers. Erskine's pet project. You are the uber soldat. The one child of the miracle serum."

"How are you talking?" asked Steve. "You look like you're on your death bed."

"What you see before you is my flesh form. Weak. Repugnant. Insignificant. An antiquated vessel betrayed by its own frailty. Evolution has deemed it inferior. Obsolete. It shall soon cease to be, and wither away, like all flesh."

"This is seriously out there," whispered Dugan to Falsworth.

"Too right."

"But if you die," continued Steve, "how can you be immortal?"

"You fumble in ignorance; petty tin soldiers. My flesh shall die. My mind however, shall live on. Eternal. Immortal. Never to fade to dust."

"You're crazy!" blurted Falsworth.

"I don't understand," said Steve.

"Of course you don't, for you do not know the key to our evolution, as I do. I have spent my entire mortal life seeking the answers to the plight of death. All flesh is weak; it lives only to die. To decay. To wither. It is a poor vessel for my genius. After decades of research, I finally found a way to preserve my mind forever."

"How?"

"By tapping into the newly discovered field of cybernetics and computerization. I have created the perfect vessel; a synthesis of mind and machine. No flesh to wither; no cells to decay. A body of steel and circuitry. A perfect casing for my eternal consciousness."

"You put your brain in a . . . . a robot?"

"Your words are simple, but your meaning is correct."

"That's insane. It's not possible."

"For the truly intelligent, nothing is impossible."

"What are you going to do next? What's your plan?" asked Peggy, stepping past Steve.

"My plan has always been the same, Fraulein. To use my scientific expertise to ensure that Hydra shall inherit this Earth."

"Hydra?" asked Steve. "Hydra's just a part of the Nazi regime. You serve Hitler."

"Incorrect. Hydra may have been founded as a division of the Third Reich, but like myself, we have evolved. Adolf Hitler is a colossal imbecile who will never be able to accomplish his goals. He sabotages himself and he does not even know it. Even with our help, he would have lost his foolish war. Hydra predicted this outcome far in advance. The Third Reich shall fall, but Hydra will live again."

"Not if we take you and the other Hydra leaders down."

"Hydra is immortal, Steve Rogers. You can no more kill it than you can kill an ocean. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place."

"I don't believe you."

"What you believe is your concern. It does not affect the truth."

"I don't think we're getting anything else out of him, "said Peggy. "We gotta go."

"Farewell, Steve Rogers. Enjoy your last moments of life."

The screen began beeping rapidly. After a second, Steve's eyes widened.

"MOVE!"

Steve grabbed Peggy around the waist and threw her towards the door as Bucky's team ran. Steve then turned and faced his shield to Zola, whose entire apparatus exploded. He felt the overwhelming force of the blast before everything went dark and silent.


	7. Red Dress

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 7: Red Dress

The Colonel sneered as he stared at Steve and Peggy.

"You two were reckless, impulsive, and you both disobeyed direct orders from a superior officer in war time."

The two did not respond, instead waiting with bated breath as the Colonel began pacing back and forth in front of them. His hands were behind his back.

"Under normal circumstances, your punishment would be severe."

He then stopped, facing away from them.

"However . . . . these are not normal circumstances."

Peggy raised an eyebrow. The Colonel turned around and looked directly at Steve.

"I said you weren't a soldier, Rogers . . . . and I was wrong. You saved my team. I read their reports. They said that if you hadn't shown up, they would never have gotten out alive. Without your interference, we would have lost them and the intel they gathered."

"Thank you, Colonel."

The Colonel then looked at Peggy.

"And you, Miss Carter . . . . while part of me wants to have you discharged for what you did, I also know that you technically were adhering to the terms of your assignment . . . . and given what you two were able to accomplish, I am willing to overlook your indiscretion."

Peggy nodded.

"But know this, you two . . . . you won't be able to get away with this again."

"I understand, sir," said Steve. "I will pack up my things and prepare for shipment to the facility of your choice."

"That won't be necessary," said the Colonel.

"Sir?"

"You won't get away with it again, because you're officially being enlisted in the armed service. I am of the understanding that Sergeant Barnes' team has taken to referring to you by a nickname provided by one of the German soldiers you encountered."

The Colonel pulled a set of metal identification tags from his breast pocket, and tossed them to Steve, who caught them with his left hand.

"Consider yourself drafted, Captain."

Steve looked down at the dog tag in his hand. It read "STEVE ROGERS – CAPTAIN AMERICA."

"Hope you like the name, son. It already caught on with the administrative board."

Steve felt a smile slowly form on his face as he stared down at the tag.

"I like it just fine, sir."

* * *

Wearing his finest military jacket, Steve walked into the bar. Several tables of patrons were full, with the biggest one in the middle being the one he knew he was going to. Bucky, Natalie, Dugan, Falsworth, Morita and Gabe were all present. Dugan put his mug in the air upon seeing Steve.

"Hey everybody, look who's here! Captain America!"

Everyone at the table cheered as Steve walked up to the table. He took a short, mocking bow before sitting down next to Bucky.

"Man of the hour has arrived," said Bucky. "Can't believe my own eyes."

"Not used to seeing me like this?" asked Steve.

"You kidding? You've never been in a bar in your life. First time, and you're a celebrity."

Natalie pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette between her lips.

"Someone get this man a drink!" shouted Dugan.

"What'll it be, Cap?" asked Gabe.

"Ah, non-alcoholic for me, guys. I don't drink."

"What?!" spurted out Morita, spewing some of his beer back on the table.

"Use a handkerchief, you barbarian," said Falsworth.

"What do you mean, you don't drink?!" shouted Dugan.

"Not my style."

"Told you all he's a damn square," said Bucky, taking a swig from his beer bottle. "His fancy muscles don't change him none. Still just a punk from Brooklyn."

"I wouldn't call him that," chortled Natalie, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"I may be a punk from Brooklyn," started Steve, "but you're a punk from the Bronx. Think I got you beat on that one."

The rest of the guys at the table laughed out loud at Steve's comeback. Bucky looked flabbergasted.

"A couple months without me covering his back and he suddenly becomes a wise guy."

"One of us had to be."

Bucky gently slapped the back of Steve's head.

"But seriously, not even one drink?" asked Gabe.

"I meet up with the greatest icon in the free world and he won't even share a beer with me!" yelled Dugan, slamming his palm down on the table. "He's a fascist, I tell ya!"

"What do you want then, Rogers?" asked Falsworth. "Apple juice? Tap water?"

"Warm milk?" said Morita, which elicited a laugh from Gabe and Dugan.

"Ha ha, you guys are hilarious, but actually, I want . . . ."

Steve stopped speaking when he saw that everyone at the table were all looking past him. He turned around in his chair to see Peggy walking into the room. She was in an elegant, scarlet dress, with the same hue as her lips. He felt his mouth hang open slightly at the sight of her.

"Peggy," he finally said.

"Rogers."

Peggy was silent for a moment.

"Fine establishment."

Peggy looked over at Gabe. There was an empty seat between him and Steve.

"May I take a seat?"

Gabe took a moment to respond.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Of course."

"Thank you."

"The gang's all here!" yelled Dugan, with a wide grin. "Another round!"

Peggy turned to Steve.

"So, did you enjoy finally getting a couple hours away from me?"

"More or less. Shore leave does that."

"Yeah."

"You, uh . . . .you look great."

"Thanks."

"Hey everybody!" yelled Morita. "Dugan's song is on!"

Everyone quieted down to listen to the song.

_"We'll meet again,_

_ Don't know where, don't know when,_

_ But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day . . . ."_

"This is Dugan's song?" asked Bucky.

"Hell yeah it is!" shouted Dugan. "Keep smiling through, just like you always do . . . ."

* * *

Peggy was washing her hands in the sink of the women's washroom when Natalie walked out of one of the stalls and took the sink next to her.

"Private Lorraine."

"Awh come on, don't give me that. Call me Natalie."

"Okay, Natalie. Guess it's only fair you call me Peggy."

"You know, I hope you know that I really appreciate what you did for us. Saving our lives."

Peggy and Natalie turned to face each other.

"Just doing my job. We're all in this together."

"I hope so. Heard the Colonel's thinking of putting us all back in action as a team. Would be good to get back in the field again with people I can trust."

"Yeah."

"And having the Captain with us will be a bonus."

"You think so?"

"Of course. You've seen him in action more than I have. He's incredible in combat . . . . and the view ain't that bad either."

Peggy gave a soft chuckle.

"Any intentions there, Private?"

"Nah. He looks good, but I doubt he's my type. Besides . . . . I heard he's already sweet on someone."

* * *

Some time later, at their own private table, Peggy chuckled as Steve finished chugging his Coke bottle and slammed it back down next to the empty plate. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's so funny?"

"You seem awfully pleased with yourself."

"You have no idea how happy I am to be able to finish a sandwich."

"I have some idea. I did witness your last pitiful attempt."

She laughed again, placing a hand over her mouth as she did. Steve shook his head, but couldn't help but smile. Eventually he gave up and allowed himself to laugh as well.

"Look, I was scrawny back then, okay?" pleaded Steve. "I've always had confidence issues about that sort of thing. Can't wait to go back to Ron's. He'll have a field day when he sees me now."

"I'll just bet. Probably won't believe it."

"Probably not. Hell, he'll be like . . . ."

Steve put on a deep, throaty accent.

"Whaddaya mean, you're Steve? What you done with my boy, ya yellow sack of trash? I'll clobber ya four ways from Sunday, punk!"

Peggy eyes pinched shut as she let out a loud giggle. After she was done, the two just sat in silence for several minutes, not looking at each other. Steve then turned his head back to her.

"Hey."

Peggy slowly met his gaze.

"Hmm?"

"When this is over, you know, maybe you and I . . . . maybe we can go back. To Ron's, I mean. Have a proper meal together. Minus the spying."

"Hmm."

"What do you say?"

Peggy looked away for a moment before looking back.

"I, um . . . . can't make any promises about that, Rogers."

Steve leaned forward and placed his hands together on the table.

"You've said that before. What's with this policy of yours? Where did it come from?"

Peggy sat back in her chair, folding her arms.

"My line of work, it uh . . . . it makes sense, I suppose. I'm always on assignment. I don't always end up on one thing for as long as this. Sometimes I change location. Sometimes even personas. I've been undercover before. I've seen enough of this life to know that, once you start making promises, it means you've become attached."

Steve narrowed his eyes in concern.

"Can't afford to become attached in this job, Steve. No attachments means your judgement doesn't hazy when the chips are down. Means it's easy to let go when the higher ups send you somewhere else. It's just the job."

Steve shook his head.

"I don't buy it. You try hard to hide it, but . . . . I've seen you laugh. Seen you smile. When I met you, I didn't think you were capable of either."

"We all have our surprises, Rogers. Some more than others."

"Been surprised by me?"

"Maybe once or twice."

"Well, here's one for you. Care to dance?"

Peggy looked at Steve with startled eyes.

"We're on shore leave," reasoned Steve.

"Rogers . . . ."

"Come on. Just one dance. Who knows? You might come away surprised again."

Steve held out his hand, with a somewhat dorky smile on his face. Peggy looked at it for a few moments before meeting his gaze again.

"One."

"It's all I asked for."

Peggy sighed and took Steve's hand. They got on to the dance floor as the group from earlier watched. Dugan let out a howl.

"Quit your howling, Dugan," scolded Gabe. "You sound like a fox with bronchitis."

"Ahh, shut up, Jones!"

Steve and Peggy got into a formal dancing stance as the song started. Several other couples were also on the dance floor.

_"If I didn't care,_

_ More than words can say,_

_ If I didn't care,_

_ Would I feel this way?_

_ If this isn't love, then why do I thrill?_

_And what makes my head_

_Go 'round and 'round_

_While my heart stands still?"_

Steve led the dance, maintaining steady footwork. As the dance went on, more and more of the bar began observing them. Bucky silently nodded as he happily watched his friend.

_"If I didn't care_

_Would it be the same?_

_Would my every prayer_

_Begin and end with just your name?_

_And would I be sure that this_

_Is love beyond compare?_

_Would all this be true_

_If I didn't care for you?"_

At the very end of the dance, Steve reached out and dipped Peggy, which caused the entire bar to erupt into applause. As he brought her back up to her feet, he looked into her eyes again.

"We all have our surprises, right?"

Peggy didn't need to answer. Her smile said it all.


	8. Taming of the Shrew

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 8: Taming of the Shrew

Clutching the silver, metal lighter in her right hand, Whitford flicked it open and lit up the cigarette she was holding to her mouth. Placing the lighter back in her breast pocket, she took a few moments to enjoy a deep drag before pulling the cigarette out from between her lips with her index and middle fingers on her left hand.

Whitford turned to Peggy, who was staring at the files and images in front of her.

"So that's where the name came from?"

"Yeah. Gabe's idea. He said Dugan was always howling like an idiot, so why not call ourselves that? The Howling Commandos."

"How juvenile."

Peggy scoffed, but otherwise did not respond. After a couple minutes of silence, Whitford spoke again.

"I was reviewing the mission reports from the various ops your team performed. I was . . . . less than impressed."

"The administrative board seemed to think otherwise."

"I'm not the administrative board."

"Right. You're just their bitch."

Whitford responded by taking another drag. She then picked up one of the files and perused its contents.

"You were tasked with bringing down Hydra?"

"Yes. We resumed the mission that the Colonel had been undertaking while Ste . . . . Captain Rogers, was in training. Hunting down and attempting to capture the members of Hydra's high council."

"It says here that your mission to capture Baron von Strucker was a failure. He got away?"

"Yes."

"And that during your raid on Castle Zemo, the Captain accidentally killed the Baron by knocking him into a vat of experimental chemicals."

"Yes."

"And that . . . ."

"What are you getting at?" snapped Peggy.

Whitford slammed the file back on the table.

"What I'm getting at is that it was your mission to bring them in alive," scolded Whitford, pointing a finger in Peggy's face. "Including Zola, your team failed in every attempt. Everyone was so willing to dump praise on the Commandos because they made good press for the newsreels. That's what you were. A good story."

Peggy glared at Whitford, who started to pace around the table.

"It was so easy to put the Captain and his team of inspiring soldiers on the covers of magazines. You sold war bonds. Lengthened recruitment lines. Gave the men and women back home someone to root for; someone you knew was out there protecting them from the Reich. Good for propaganda? Yes. Kept the populace from panicking? Sure. But actually getting things done? Not so much.

"We did the best we could! You say you read the mission reports? Then you should have seen that each time, we were faced with circumstances we couldn't control!"

"Tell me . . . . what happened here?"

Whitford placed her finger on one of the mission files. Peggy looked at it and saw that it included images of a train railway affixed to the side of a mountain. Her eyes widened upon realizing what file it was.

"The Salzkammergut op."

"Go on."

Peggy gulped before continuing.

"We were on the trail of Madame Hydra, who was overseeing transport of vital materials for the Skull. She was using a train that ran through the Northern Limestone Alps. We caught up with her train in Austria, near the town of . . . . Hallstatt. We thought we could stop her."

"And what happened?"

"We learned what Hydra was truly capable of."

* * *

_"SOMEONE KILL THE SUPER SOLDIER!"_

Ophelia's shrieking voice sounded over the train's loudspeaker, tearing through Steve's eardrums. As he kicked away another Hydra soldier, he tried to drown it out. Peggy shot the last soldier in the cart they were in.

"Quite the charmer, isn't she?" asked Peggy.

"Yeah. A real girl next door type."

"With just a dash of fascism and megalomania," chided Morita.

The train they were on was rocketing down the wooden tracks of a railway attached to the side of a mountain range. Jagged, snow-covered rocks provided the support for the tracks. The mountains made up the left side, while the right gave way to a large valley composed of a frosted forest and frozen lake.

Steve approached the door at the end of the cart and smashed it open with his shield. He looked into the next cart to see a Hydra soldier firing her rocket launcher directly at him.

"Get back!"

Steve held his shield up in front of him to absorb the rocket blast. The explosion jostled the carts, but they stayed on the tracks. Before she could reload her rocket launcher, Steve threw his shield, striking her in the torso and knocking her out. Steve leaped into the forward cart, followed by Peggy, Gabe and Morita.

Steve turned to Morita.

"Where's Nat?"

Morita pulled a radio transceiver from his pack and held it to his ear.

"Nat, you there? Nat? What's your status?"

Everyone then heard an explosion from behind them.

"Done!" yelled Natalie through the transceiver. "Heading for the roof now!"

"Got it."

"Good," said Gabe. "Those lost supplies will be a big setback for the Skull."

"We're not done yet," said Steve. "We still have our charismatic host to deal with."

"In front!" shouted Peggy.

Everyone looked forward to see more Hydra soldiers approaching from the next cart, getting into defensive positions. As they did, a helicopter with a Hydra insignia on it flew up to the side of the train. One of the Hydra soldiers pointed at it.

"Ha ha!" she yelled. "You're finished, uber soldat!"

The helicopter then turned towards the carts, aiming at the Hydra soldiers. They barely had time to react before the helicopter opened fire with its twin machine guns, ripping apart the soldiers. The ones who weren't immediately torn to shreds scrambled, but were too surprised to move quick enough to escape the onslaught of bullets.

Once everyone in the cart was dead, Morita's transceiver sounded.

"You're all clear," said Dugan.

"Good work," replied Morita. "You got Nat?"

"I'm here!" yelled Nat.

"Congratulations Dugan," said Falsworth, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "You managed to pilot this thing and not get us killed after all."

"Told you, Monty. I can pilot anything that moves."

Steve spoke into the transceiver.

"Keep us covered. We're moving up."

"You got it, Cap," said Bucky.

Steve looked up at the helicopter to see the side door open. Bucky was crouched next to it, holding his sniper rifle. Steve's team then moved forward, getting through the cleared cart. When they opened the door at the end of it, they saw that the next cart was a flat, open wagon, with several supply packages fastened to the floor. They trudged forward, slowed down by the wind.

As they reached the middle of the wagon, more Hydra soldiers poured out of the door of the next cart, which was the engine locomotive. The one leading the pack charged forward before her head suddenly exploded into a mess of fleshy chunks. The other soldiers ducked behind the nearby crate to avoid the sniper fire.

Crouching behind a supply crate, Morita fired a burst from his machine gun, putting four bullets in the side of another soldier. Stunned by the shots, he toppled over and fell off the edge of the train. One of the other Hydra soldiers then shot at Gabe, hitting him in the leg.

"Agh!"

Morita's eyes widened.

"Gabe!"

Peggy fired at the soldier who shot Gabe, forcing him to take cover. Morita pulled Gabe behind the crate and looked at the bullet wound.

"Agh," moaned Gabe. "Son of a bitch."

"Cap, he's wounded bad," said Morita. "We need to get him to Falsworth! Patch this up."

Steve nodded.

"Get him out of here! We can take care of this!"

Morita waved at the helicopter, and Dugan swerved over, lining up the open window with the floor of the flat wagon. Bucky gunned down another soldier to provide cover for Morita, who helped Gabe onto the helicopter. Just as they were getting on, another Hydra soldier aimed her rocket launcher at the helicopter.

"Dugan!" yelled Bucky. "Move!"

Dugan swerved the helicopter away from the train just in time to dodge the rocket. Steve then vaulted himself over a crate and kicked the soldier in the chest with both feet, rendering her unconscious.

"MUST I DO EVERYTHING MYSELF?!"

The shrill cry of Ophelia's voice over the loudspeaker was followed by the roof of the engine locomotive opening. A missile launching platform exited the roof, and aimed a white missile into the sky. Steve and Peggy watched with wide eyes as the missile targeted, not the helicopter, but a village in the nearby valley.

"I hope you enjoy the deaths of all those helpless civilians on your conscience, Herr Captain!"

"No!" yelled Steve.

The missile fired, leaving a trail of exhaust as it rocketed through the sky. Steve and Peggy helplessly watched as the missile landed on the village, erupting in a crimson, mist-like explosion. Scowling, Peggy ran up to the door of the engine. Shooting the handle, she then kicked the door in and burst inside, followed by Steve.

The inside of the train engine had an elevated platform, where the locomotive engineer was sitting. Ophelia stood behind her, turning around when Steve and Peggy entered the engine.

"I told you to stay out of this when we first met, Captain. Your showboat heroics have done nothing but bring about your own destruction. You think yourself courageous? You're nothing but the dead dream of a traitor with a syringe!"

"And you're nothing but a common murderer," replied Steve. "Willing to slaughter innocent people for no reason other than your petty ambitions."

Ophelia sneered before looking back at the locomotive engineer.

"Keep us on schedule, Gabrielle. I'll deal with this."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ophelia flipped over the railing of the elevated platform, landing in a three point pose. Peggy aimed her pistol and fired, but Ophelia dodged the shot and threw out a dagger from her belt, knocking the gun out of Peggy's hand. She then flipped forward and performed a cartwheel kick, connecting with Peggy's chest and sending her flying backwards. She smashed against the back wall of the engine cart and slumped to the floor.

Steve jutted forward with his shield, but Ophelia grabbed it with one hand and slashed over it with a knife in the other. He ducked under the slash and pulled the shield back with both hands, ripping it out of her grasp before charging with it, slamming into her ribcage.  
Ophelia withdrew a step, pulling out another blade so that she had one in each hand. She then lashed out with a vicious combination attack, breaking Steve's guard with the impact of her repeated blows. Slicing upwards along his chest with one of her blades, she then put all of her weight into a front kick, connecting with his stomach.

Steve reeled backwards from the force of the kick, dropping his shield. Ophelia pressed her advantage by following with a knee to the chest, but Steve had recovered enough to counter with an elbow to her face. He then punched her in the ovaries, stunning her, before following up with another punch to the jaw.

Ophelia flipped backwards to roll with the blow, landing on her feet and quickly pulling out her twin lugers. Steve was just fast enough to pick up his shield and deflect the barrage of bullets. The deflected bullets bounced around the engine compartment, with one of them hitting Gabrielle in the heart, killing her instantly. As she slumped over, more deflected bullets hit her instruments, jostling the entire train.

The sound of crunching metal and buckling bolts played over Steve and Ophelia struggling to keep their footing. A fire at the front of the engine broke out, and the steam coming from the train's smoke stack whistled loudly as the heat grew. Steve took the initiative to roundhouse kick Ophelia in the face while she was distracted, knocking her to the ground.

As Steve recovered from his attack, he noticed a map attached to the wall of the engine cabin. It was a world map, with several Hydra symbols on it. He took note of all of them, before noticing one in a location he wasn't expecting. Another explosion then shook him back into the present moment. He looked over at Peggy, who was still unconscious.

Ophelia pushed herself off the floor, wiping some blood from her mouth.

"You can't stop it, Captain. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place!"

Steve scoffed.

"So you keep saying. The Skull is next."

"You cannot hope to defeat the Red Skull, you pompous fool! He is power itself!"

"We'll see."

Steve hit her across the face with the back of his fist.

"That was for Erskine!"

He then smashed her in the stomach with the ridge of his shield.

"That was for those villagers!"

Grabbing her right arm, he struck the back of her elbow with his palm. She shrieked in agony as the bone joint exploded inside her arm.

"That was for Peggy!"

Steve allowed Ophelia to stumble backwards a couple of steps as he drew back his fist for a haymaker.

"And this one's for me!"

Steve put all of his power into the final punch, colliding with the centre of Ophelia's face. The force of the blow sent her flying out the window of the engine, shattering the glass. Ophelia let out a long scream as she fell out of sight.

Taking a moment to breathe, Steve then rushed over to Peggy, grabbing her with both arms and helping her to her feet.

"Peg!"

Peggy didn't respond.

"C'mon, Peggy. Stay with me. Peggy!"

Another loud explosion rocked the engine, and Steve felt the tracks give way underneath the train. He quickly wrapped himself around Peggy and held her tightly as the entire train toppled. Bucky let out a scream as he could do nothing but watch the train fall off the tracks and crash into the forest below.


	9. Bloodhounds

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 9: Bloodhounds

"Ugh . . . ."

The heat coming from the nearby fire startled Steve awake. Pushing himself into a seated position on the ground, he wiped his eyes and waited a few moments for his blurred vision to realign itself. Grabbing his shield off the ground beside him, he placed it in the holster on his back.

"Ergh . . . ."

Steve brushed away some of the leaves and twigs around his legs as his vision returned to him. A horde of frosted trees surrounded him, with cyan mist shrouding his view beyond a few dozen metres in every direction. As he stood up, his feet crunched into the faint layer of snow atop the dirt beneath his boots.

Feeling pain in all of his major muscles, Steve pushed it out of his mind as he turned to face the source of the heat. The smouldering wreck of the train was utterly still, with several small fires burning in various places along it. Hundreds of pieces of twisted metal and shredded wood were strewn about the wreckage.

Steve scanned his eyes around the wreck until he saw what he was looking for.

"Peggy."

He rushed up to Peggy, crouching next to her motionless body. Her head was slumped forward; her back pressed against one of the pieces of the train. Her arms lay limp at her side, and her dishevelled hair had several leaves in it. Steve frowned as he looked at her.

Then he gasped when he looked at her pelvis.

"No . . . . no . . . ."

A long, thin branch had punctured her stomach area, with part of it jutting through her clothing. A small blotch of blood had soaked the cloth surrounding the wound. Steve instinctively reached for the branch, but stopped himself before he touched it.

"Peggy . . . ."

For a few minutes, he just watched her, silently hoping she would wake on her own.

"Peggy . . . ."

Sighing, he let his head lower. He closed his eyes, but the tears still managed to slip through his eyelids. He then reached out and wrapped his arms around her head, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Peggy . . . . you're okay . . . . y-you're . . . . you're . . . . dammit . . . . damn it . . . ."

Letting himself go, he broke into a full on sob as the onslaught of tears drenched her blue coat.

"You were supposed to b-be okay! We were supposed to . . . . we were gonna . . . . we were . . . . we were g-gonna be . . . . be okay . . . . be okay . . . . I was gonna . . . . g-gonna . . . . we were gonna go back. Right? Remember? You and me! Just us . . . . back . . . . back to the . . . . to the s-sandwich shop. Remember? Tell me you remember, Peggy . . . . tell me . . . . t-tell . . . ."

His body shivered as he finally felt the chilled air brush against his skin. He then went silent and just breathed for few moments, until he heard something he wasn't expecting.

"I'll tell you something, Rogers . . . ."

Steve withdrew himself as he watched Peggy wake up. He couldn't help but smile widely as she looked directly into his eyes.

"You're the biggest dork I've ever met."

* * *

Supporting Peggy's weight with his right arm wrapped around her shoulders, Steve trudged forward, away from the wreckage of the train. Their progress was slow and deliberate, with Peggy frequently cringing and wincing as she slowly bled from her wound. Steve looked down at the branch with concern, but did not mention it.

For a few long minutes, they walked together in silence. A thin, slow patter of snowflakes fell around them. Steve watched the paths that some of the flakes took; they serenely floated downward with the gentle breeze of the wind.

"Urgh . . . ."

Her eyes closed, Peggy began slipping out of Steve's grasp, her legs going limp. Steve quickly adjusted his arm to stop her from falling, lifting her back up. Her head rolled to the side as she laboriously breathed. Her eyes then burst open and she started hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey!"

Peggy turned her neck to look at Steve.

"Come on. Stay with me, Peggy. You'll . . . . we'll be fine."

After staring at him for a few seconds, Peggy's breathed slowed to its normal rate. She blinked a couple of times and then shook her head.

"Steve . . . . agh . . . ."

Peggy put her free hand on her forehead.

"Everything's spinning . . . . ah, dammit . . . ."

"Don't worry about that. I've got you. Let's just focus on the next few metres."

They resumed their walk, with Peggy repeatedly blinking and shaking her head to force herself to stay awake. As they continued, Steve felt as if for a brief moment, there was another presence. He even thought he faintly heard a sniffing sound from some manner of creature, but he scanned the area around them and saw no movement.

"T-This is . . . . embarrassing," said Peggy.

"How so?"

"I was s-supposed to protect you . . . . ugh, agh . . . . not the other way around."

Steve let out a soft chuckle as they walked into a clearing area, which was devoid of trees for about fifteen metres all around.

"Look at it this way . . . . we're bonding over a shared experience. No reason I can't help you out of a jam from time to time. Besides, you're still hanging around me, right? Just more literal now."

"Hardy har har-agh!"

Peggy cringed and grabbed at her leg. Steve stopped and turned his head to see if he could identify the problem, when suddenly Peggy's eyes widened and she reached for the holster on Steve's leg. Pulling out his pistol, she fired three quick shots past his head.

"What the . . . .!"

Steve turned around to see a creature fly backwards at the force of Peggy's shots. It crashed against a tree and slumped to the ground, dead. Steve narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the creature. It was humanoid, but only just. Large parts of its skeleton were visible, with serrated bones protruding from the joints. It had no skin; rather, all of the flesh and musculature was perfectly visible, with some sections charred and bloodied.

"What is this . . . . thing?" asked Steve.

"Trouble," replied Peggy.

Steve then looked forward to see three more of the creatures approaching. They were close to the ground, stalking on all fours, growling as they did so. Their faces had T-shaped slits where their mouths should have been, with four blade-like teeth on each side. Each creature also had shriveled black eyes, with brightly glowing red pupils.

"Put me down," ordered Peggy.

"What?"

"Do it!"

Steve let Peggy down to the ground gently, not taking his eyes off the creatures. She sat down on her side, her legs outstretched to the right. Pistol in hand, she took aim at the closest creature. Steve then took a step forward, holding his shield in front of him. One of the creatures looked directly into his eyes while it salivated blood.

Suddenly, the creature pounced forward, shrieking as it did so. The power of its legs was striking; it was able to clear the nearly ten metres between it and Steve with seemingly little effort. Steve jutted his shield forward, and the creature latched onto it with its claws. Stretching its neck, it vainly chomped on the air as it tried to bite him.

The other two creatures started crawling faster towards Peggy. She took aim and fired at one of them, but her shaky aim caused her to miss. Still, the creature leaped back in response. The other one jumped at a tree before bouncing off it and sprinting right for her. She turned and fired at that one, hitting it in the chest. The shot snapped off one of the bone protrusions, but otherwise didn't seem to damage the creature. However, the impact did stop its charge, and it stood up on two legs and roared into the sky.

Initially knocked back by the force of the creature that was attacking him, Steve pushed against his shield with both arms, overpowering the creature and shoving it against the ground. In response, it lashed out with both paws, slashing Steve's left forearm.

"Agh!"

Steve winced in pain, and the creature took his moment of pause to press the attack, biting into the arm wound. It shook its head back and forth violently, gashing and tearing into his flesh with its serrated teeth. Steve yelled before pushing the creature back to the ground and forcefully bringing down the shield on its neck. The attack decapitated the creature, and its severed throat spurted out multiple streams of blood.

Steve then turned to look at Peggy. She had just gunned down one of the creatures, but the last one was walking towards her, tilting its head side to side as it observed its prey. It growled as blood gushed from its mouth and dripped onto the snow. Peggy took aim and pulled the trigger on her pistol, but the gun clicked in response, the magazine empty.

"Oh . . . . shit."

Both Steve and Peggy's eyes widened at the same time as the creature leaped at her, both arms outstretched. It shrieked loudly as it did so, when its attack was suddenly cut short by its head exploding. The creature's lifeless body fell to the floor in a heap in front of Peggy, much of its blood spilling onto her.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed.

"Steve!" shouted a voice from behind.

Steve and Peggy looked up to see Dugan's helicopter in the air above them, with Bucky crouched at the open side door. Bucky lowered his sniper rifle and waved at them. Steve smiled.

"Bucky!"

After Dugan landed the helicopter in the clearing, Bucky, Falsworth and Natalie clambered out. Steve helped Peggy back to her feet and handed her off to Falsworth and Natalie.

"Come on, Peg," said Natalie. "We're getting you to out of here."

"No objections here."

Bucky walked up to Steve.

"Nice of you to drop by," said Steve.

"We circled the crash site a few times, but didn't see you. Lucky we showed up in time. What the hell were those things?"

"I think . . . . I think I know what happened to those villagers."


	10. History Unfolds

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 10: History Unfolds

Steve watched in terror as the missile struck the city. The sheer force of the explosion annihilated several buildings, but rather than causing a ball of fire as expected, it was instead a crimson, mist-like mushroom cloud. The mist quickly enveloped the streets, choking the air and engulfing hundreds of pedestrians.

They began shrieking and screaming in abject agony as their bodies twisted and writhed. Within seconds, steam began coming off of them as their flesh boiled. Their skin started to melt and flay into strips of roasted flesh that peeled off as they were cooked from the inside out. Many of the people fell to the floor as skinless corpses.

Others started to mutate into the creatures he had faced earlier. The ones that had changed started to growl and pounce on the other bodies, biting and tearing into them. Blood quickly filled the streets as the creatures rushed from one corpse to the next. Steve cringed upon seeing that one of the creatures running along the street was only about a metre tall.

One woman who had changed then turned to the screen and pounced at it before the video feed cut out.

The screen then changed to a taping of the Red Skull sitting at his desk.

"What you just witnessed was a recording of a CBV-89 missile striking the heart of Berlin."

Steve, Peggy, the Colonel, Howard, the rest of the Commandos and several other military officials were all standing in the room together, watching the video from a projector screen.

"I want this to be a declaration to the world. Hydra is no longer a part of the Third Reich. We are the true masters now. I am in possession of two dozen missiles loaded with the Corrupted Blood Virus, ready to fire on enemy capitals all around the globe."

Peggy looked over at Steve, but he did not turn to her. His narrowed eyes were focused on Schmidt.

"The new world order has finally arrived. Leaders of the old world . . . . you have a choice. Swear undying loyalty to the will of Hydra for all eternity . . . . or watch your people burn. You have seventy-two hours to decide."

Steve sneered as Schmidt held up a gloved fist.

"Hail Hydra!"

The projector stopped playing. Everyone was silent for a few moments, until the Colonel turned around.

"That was timestamped and sent out nineteen hours ago."

He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing.

"This is it, people. This is the end of days. We don't find the Skull before his deadline . . . . it's over. Millions die, and the world changes forever."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I know where he is."

Steve looked down at the map on the table, grabbing a felt tip marker from a pen container. He marked an X in the middle of the Arctic Circle. Everyone looked at it.

"You sure about that?" asked Howard.

"Yes. On Madame Hydra's train, there was a map with Hydra logos on it. I recognized some of the locations as Hydra bases that we know about or have attacked. The only one that I didn't know of was right there. The Arctic Circle."

Gabe shook his head.

"Can't be. How the hell do you build a base up there?"

"Hydra's already been able to sneak onto English soil undetected and create a biological weapon that turns people into monsters," said Peggy. "Who's to say they can't build a base in the Arctic?"

"It would be the perfect defense," said Bucky. "Most conventional equipment would be rendered useless just trying to get there, let alone attack."

Steve leaned on the table, putting both of his fists on it.

"There has to be a way. We can't just sit here and let the Skull win. The Colonel's right. This is it. Everything's built up to this moment. In two days, either Hydra is defeated . . . . or the free world doesn't exist anymore."

Everyone started breathing a bit slower as they listened intently to Steve.

"The Skull won't stop here. He'd rather destroy the entire planet than let anyone escape his rule. He's drawn the ultimatum, and if we fail to meet it . . . . then everything we've ever done, everything we've ever been, everything we've ever fought for . . . . it'll have never mattered. So today, we take a stand . . . . it's all we can do. After that, we'll see how history unfolds."

"But Steve . . . . how do we stop him?" asked Bucky. "We can't move an army there in time."

"Not an army," replied Steve. "A team."

"Just the Commandos?"

"Yes. One plane. Launched from an aircraft carrier close to the co-ordinates. Dugan can pilot it, and we airdrop in. All we have to do is take down the missile silos, and the Skull's threat is over."

The Colonel shook his head.

"I don't like it . . . . but I don't see another option."

"Steve," said Bucky.

"Yeah?"

"It's a suicide mission if we go in there. You know that, right?"

Steve took in a breath before responding.

"It's a suicide mission if we don't."

* * *

Steve, in his civilian clothes, found himself pacing around his room. He was holding a file in his hand that read 'Operation Snowfall'. Every once in a while he would stop and sigh, or scratch his head, but he always returned to the pacing after a few moments. After doing this for a while, he heard a knock at the door.

"It's open."

Peggy opened the door and walked into the room, closing it behind her. Steve put the file down on the bedside table, next to the record player. He gave her a brief look. She was wearing her brown jacket.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Me neither."

Peggy leaned against the door, folding her arms.

"Ship's captain says we'll be at launching range in four hours."

"Oh. Huh."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

Steve turned to look at Peggy but then quickly turned around.

"What?" she said. "Not good enough for you anymore? Should I get one of those Yank tarts in here?"

"No . . . . no, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I, um . . . ."

Steve sighed rather than finish his sentence.

"Steve? I can leave, if you want."

"No, don't . . . ."

"Then talk to me, dammit."

Steve finally turned around and faced her.

"What's bothering you?"

"I . . . . I don't know if I want you on this mission."

"What?"

"Not that I don't want you with us, it's just . . . ."

"Oh, don't give me this crap. The doctor cleared me. I'm fine."

"I know, but . . . ."

"But what?!"

"I saw you . . . . I saw you when you were unconscious from the fall. I saw you there, bleeding."

Peggy felt the lines around her eyes softening.

"And I didn't know what to do. I just stood there. All my training, the serum . . . . it couldn't help. I couldn't do a damn thing to save you. All I could do was hope. Hope you would be okay. Hope that I . . . . that you'd be okay. I just don't want to be in that position again."

"And what about what I want, Steve? Does that factor in at all?"

"What? Of course . . . ."

"Because you know what I don't want? I don't want to be stuck on the sidelines. I don't want to have to tell people that I stood aside while the most important battle of my life happened without me. Most of all, I don't want to have someone else tell me to abandon my duty."

Steve bit the inside of his lip.

"Even if he is a surprisingly good dancer."

Steve and Peggy shared a short laugh.

"You're right," said Steve. "That was just . . . . forget it. I want you with me, here, now. I want . . . . the people I can trust. The people I care about."

Peggy tilted her head. Steve reached out and slowly grasped her hands in his.

"And I want them to know it."

Peggy gulped and let a tear fall down her cheek before giving him a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't in my job description."

"Then it's a good thing we're not on the clock for another four hours."

Peggy chuckled while wiping the tear from her face. Steve then let go of her hands and reached into his pocket.

"I got something for you."

Peggy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?"

Steve grabbed something in his pocket, but didn't pull it out.

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you yet. Before I hand it over, you have to make me a promise."

Peggy folded her arms.

"Don't open it until we get back."

Steve smiled.

"Promise?"

Sighing, Peggy looked down with saddened eyes, slowly shaking her head.

"I told you I don't like to make promises."

Steve took a step forward, keeping up his smile. He then reached out with his free hand and put it under her chin. He gently pushed it up so that their eyes were on the same level.

"Please. Just this once."

Peggy slowly blinked, her eyes wavering. Steve lowered his hand from her chin as he patiently waited for her response. After a long period of silence, she finally broke it.

"Okay."

Steve pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out, clenched in a fist. Peggy reached out with her hand and held it open. Steve opened his palm, and the item dropped into her hand. Her eyes widened upon seeing what it was.

It was a silver, circular locket that was latched shut. It was four centimetres in diameter, with a set of thin chains attached to a tiny, round hook at the top, wrapping themselves around her fingers. They felt like small strands of silky liquid, flowing and tracing themselves along the rivets of her skin. Cradling the locket with a curved palm, she pressed the inside of her thumb against its smooth surface, rubbing it back and forth.

"Where did you get this?"

"Little knick-knack shop I found while we were on shore leave."

Peggy kept her gaze fixated on the locket. His hands in his pockets, Steve bobbed back and forth.

"Like it?"

"It's, uh . . . . it's beautiful."

"Thought so too."

Peggy kept staring at it.

"Here, I'll help you put it on."

Peggy looked up at Steve and nodded as he took the locket from her hand and wrapped the metal strands around her neck. The silky strands were cold but calming at the touch. Steve secured the hook and let go, standing back. Peggy looked down at it as the locket rested above her breasts.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I, heh . . . . I got something else for us."

Steve walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer on it. Peggy watched him as he pulled a black vinyl record from the drawer before facing her and smiling.

"Our song."

"Our?"

Steve nodded and then placed the record on the player. He waited a couple of moments as the record began spinning, and a familiar song started to play.

_"If I didn't care,_

_ More than words can say . . . ."_

Peggy smiled as Steve turned around and strolled over to her. He held out his hand, and she took it. They then slowly danced on the spot, taking tiny steps side to side. As the dance went on, Peggy closed her eyes before leaning in and resting her head against Steve's neck. He responded in kind by leaning against her.

"_And would I be sure that this,  
Is love beyond compare?  
Would all this be true,  
If I didn't care for you?"_

After the record stopped, Steve sat down on the bed, still holding Peggy's hand. She sat down next to him, but her eyes were looking at the floor. He kept his eyes on her. Eventually she met his gaze and they smiled at each other before moving closer. They both closed their eyes, and then pressed their foreheads together.

For a long time, they sat together in silence.

* * *

Howard watched as the Commandos piled onto the plane. Bucky and Peggy were the last ones to get on.

"Take off in three!" shouted Dugan from the pilot's seat.

Steve walked up to Howard, latching on his helmet. Howard had his arms folded, and looked out to the ocean over the edge of the aircraft carrier. Steve tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey."

"Hey, Steve."

"Last minute upgrades?"

"Yeah. Had to make sure she was as primed as possible if you guys are gonna have any chance of pulling this off."

"Thanks."

"Eh. Just make sure you don't forget me when you all get mountains of medals for this, alright?"

"You think we'll do it?"

Howard nodded.

"Damn right."

"Why so confident?"

"Because I know if you don't save the world, I can only imagine how mad Peggy will get."

Steve and Howard both laughed for a moment.

"Yeah," replied Steve. "I think I'd rather face that whole Hydra base alone than have her be mad at me."

"And that's why you'll win."

"Thanks, Howard . . . . for believing in me."

"You've never given me any reason to doubt. Erskine would be proud, you know? If he were here."

"Thanks."

"Besides, when I have a son of my own, I'll be able to tell him I knew you before you were Captain America."

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on it."

"Why?"

"Who knows? You might have a daughter."

Howard chuckled and shook hands with Steve, who then boarded the plane. Howard watched as the plane took off and flew into the clouds.

* * *

Taking a sip from his wine glass, Schmidt, with his eyes closed, listened to the gentle melody of Chopin's Raindrop Prelude play as the screaming suddenly subsided. The bloodhound in the transparent box in his office snapped the neck of the prisoner with its claws, before proceeding to take a generous bite of flesh from his torso. Blood splattered onto the walls of the box as the bloodhound feasted on its freshly killed meal.

Schmidt himself was not facing the box, but rather, the window at the far side of the room. It was the same panoramic view as his previous office, but this one showed the icy plains of the Arctic Circle rather than the snowy mountains of the Alps. As he stared out at the landscape, he remembered how he had ordered everything to be exactly the same at Hydra's new headquarters as at the old. Several of the surviving prisoners of war had been enlisted as slave labour for the reconstruction project.

When he had arrived, he noticed that one of his chairs was out of place. The prisoner who had put it there was the person being eaten by the bloodhound at that moment.

"Grrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaygh!" shrieked the bloodhound.

Schmidt turned around to see a metallic form walking into the room. It was humanoid, but somewhat askew. Faded, grey steel composed most of the body, with a torso section that was abnormally large. The head was a small, rectangular box with a laser light at the centre. The torso then opened to reveal a green-tinted television screen that displayed a face.

"Zola."

"Herr Skull," replied Zola, his voice modified with a synthesizer. "I have detected an incoming aircraft on my short-range scanners. It seems the Allies wish to put up a fight."

Schmidt sneered.

"Shoot them down."

* * *

"There she is."

Everyone looked out the cockpit window of the plane to see the Hydra base. It was a gargantuan construction that looked like a cross between a medieval castle and a technocratic command centre. Just as it came into view, the sky was lit up with fire from flak cannons. Dugan swerved the plane hard.

"Well, no one ever accused us of being stealthy," remarked Falsworth.

Everyone was rocked by the plane being struck.

"Left wing damage!" reported Dugan, looking at his display screens. "Doesn't look pretty."

"Suggestions?" asked Natalie.  
"Airdrop, all of you," commanded Dugan. "Take the parachutes and go."

Steve looked at Dugan with concern.

"And you?"

"Me? I drop this bird right on 'em and do enough damage to make all your jobs easier."

"That's suicide!" yelled Bucky.

"Thought this was a suicide mission!" retorted Dugan. "Just gettin' mine in early!"

"You've got to be joking," said Falsworth, with a stern face.

"One time I'm not. Go."

"Not a chance!"

"Hey!" yelled Dugan. "Lemme play the hero, alright? You always told me I was gonna get myself killed piloting something. Should be happy you're gonna be right."

Falsworth shook his head, but then smacked his hand against Dugan's shoulder.

"You crazy bastard. Make it count."

"Hell yeah!"

Falsworth stood up. All of the Commandos put on their parachutes. Before jumping out, Gabe turned to Dugan.

"See you on the other side, you lunatic!"

"I'll be waiting at the bar," replied Dugan. "First round's on me! Now get outta here!"

After everyone had leaped out with their parachutes, Dugan circled around the base.

"So will you please say hello,  
To the folks that I know,  
Tell them, I won't be long . . . ."

He noticed that there were three missile platforms on each of the two exterior balconies, with four missiles apiece.

"They'll be happy to know, that as you saw me go,  
I was singing this song!  
We'll meet again,  
Don't know where, don't know when . . . ."  
Aiming for the balcony on the right side, he pushed the throttle forward.

"But I know we'll meet again, some sunny . . . ."

The plane crashed into the right balcony, becoming completely incinerated. The force of the impact destroyed the entire balcony and shook the foundations of the base. Several explosions followed, lighting up the entire Arctic sky.


	11. Snowfall

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 11: Snowfall

The immediate moments following the team's crash landing inside of the Hydra fortress were utter chaos. Some of the team members had landed in different locations or on different floors. Explosions and gunfire filled the air with a harsh cacophony of stifling sound, relaying through the continuous drone of the station's siren alarm. A fury of brutal fighting took over, and only when it was over did Steve finally stop to breathe and get his bearings.

He crouched on the floor near the bodies of a half dozen Hydra security officers inside of a large library, with several tall bookshelves lined with numerous volumes. The decor was a mashing of Gothic-German high art sensibilities mixed with Nazi fashionings, with Hydra logos rather than swastikas. Steve pulled his radio transceiver from his belt as Falsworth and Gabe stood around him.

"This is Steve. Where is everyone? Bucky? Peggy?"

"I read you," said Peggy. "Landed near the lower decks with Nat. Good for us; explosives will do more good near the foundations."

"Morita here. I'm with Buck. He got kinda bruised, but nothing we can't handle. Looks like we're on the floor above you."

"Okay, good. Peggy, Nat, stay on course and plant those explosives. Morita, take Bucky and work your way down to us."

"You sure?" asked Peggy. "We could find a way to . . . ."

"No. Stay with Nat. Keep her safe."

Peggy hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Got it."

"See you soon."

Just as Steve placed his transceiver back on his belt, the double door at the other end of the hall burst open. Several Hydra soldiers ran into the room, followed by a metallic form. It was humanoid, but somewhat askew. Faded, grey steel composed most of the body, with a torso section that was abnormally large. The head was a small, rectangular box with a laser light at the centre. The torso then opened to reveal a green-tinted television screen that displayed a face.

"What the hell . . . .?" said Falsworth.

"Zola," said Steve.

"You did not heed my warning, Captain. I told you before that I would become immortal, and that Hydra would inherit this Earth."

"Not as long as I'm alive!" shouted Steve.

"An easily remedied situation."

Zola pointed one of his mechanical hands directly at Steve.

"Open fire!"

"Sir!"

* * *

Whitehall turned to look at one of his technicians, who was watching the video screens. They were in the security office, near the lower levels of the complex.

"What is it?" asked Whitehall.

"The Allied forces have breached the facility on three different levels. Look at this feed."

The technician turned a dial on his console, and the screen switched to a video showing Peggy and Natalie fighting against Hydra soldiers in a storage room. Natalie had a large satchel pack around her waist.

"That's an explosives pack!" exclaimed the technician. "If she plants military grade munitions on the lower levels, she could destroy the entire complex!"

Whitehall sneered and furrowed his brow behind his small fit glasses.

"Most of the security force is dealing with the exterior damage and the Captain," said Whitehall. "Send the Scorcher to deal with them."

"Yes, sir."

"And prepare Proteus."

The technician widened his eyes.

"You're certain?"

"If we are required to retreat, we shall meet with the Mistress. She is recovering at Mister Sinister's outpost in Greece. We cannot afford to take any chances. Is that understood?"

"But sir, Herr Skull, he would not . . . ."

"Is that understood?!"

Whitehall stared down at the technician, who was quivering in his seat. After a few moments, the technician nodded. He then turned back to his console and began typing in commands.

* * *

Peggy gritted her teeth as she emptied her pistol magazine, firing off the last few shots. Another Hydra soldier fell to the ground before she got back behind cover to reload. Natalie was crouched beside her, planting a C3 explosive charge on the concrete column they were hiding behind.

"Any chance you'll be done soon?" asked Peggy, as bullets flew over her head.

"Give me two goddamn seconds, you nutty Brit!"

"Nutty? Really? That's the best you got?"

Natalie lowered her head as a bullet struck the side of the column next to her head.

"Could you fuckin' focus?!" she shouted.

Peggy was then startled by a grenade landing next to her.

"Shit."

Without hesitation, Peggy reached out and yanked the grenade off the floor. With the same motion, she stood up and tossed it back towards the Hydra soldiers.

"Look out!"

The grenade exploded, ripping apart the two soldiers and painting the walls with their entrails. Natalie finished planting the explosive and then pulled out her radio transceiver.

"Half the charges have been planted. How you doin' out there?"

"Lots of bad guys, Nat," responded Bucky. "Don't know how long we can hold out up here!"

"Hold the line, killer. For me."

"For you? Anything."

Natalie turned off the transceiver and put it back in her satchel. She stood up and turned to Peggy before widening her eyes in shock.

"What is it?" asked Peggy, before turning around.

Peggy and Natalie gasped simultaneously as they saw a lumbering, humanoid figure approaching them. It was a man in a large, black suit that seemed to be a fusion of rubber and metal. He stood two metres tall, with a red face mask. Each step was slow and laboured, just like his breathing, which was audible through air filters in his mask. He was wielding a gargantuan cannon with both hands.

"My weapon comes courtesy of your Professor Horton, you democratic filth!"

"Get back!" shouted Peggy.

The Scorcher's cannon lit up, firing a sustained beam of orange, superheated plasma.

* * *

Ducking under Zola's arm swing, Steve smashed his shield against Zola's pelvis before shoving him away. Zola stumbled backwards, grinning the whole time.

"Such feeble displays of physicality, Captain!"

Zola held up both of his arms before slamming them down. Steve rolled backwards just in time to dodge the attack. The box atop Zola's head lit up before firing a thin laser, which Steve deflected with his shield. Zola fired another laser blast at the wall behind Steve, knocking him to the floor.

After shoving a Hydra soldier against a wall and knocking him out, Falsworth looked over at Zola approaching Steve.

"Steve!"

Falsworth held up his rifle and fired several shots at Zola, but they merely deflected off. He then charged and smashed the butt of his rifle against Zola's body, but the mechanical being merely shrugged off the attack and seized Falsworth by the throat. Steve tried to get up, but collapsed back on the ground.

Falsworth desperately clawed at Zola's hand as he held him into the air.

"Ah yes," said Zola. "I remember you. You were the one who called me . . . . crazy. Yes."

Falsworth could only gag in response.

"I do not take kindly to insults."

Zola then squeezed in his fist, snapping Falsworth's neck and crushing a large part of his skull. He then tossed Falsworth's corpse to the ground as Steve shouted in anger. He pushed himself off the ground as Zola charged his laser again. Before he could fire, the box atop his head exploded from a sniper round.

"What?!" exclaimed Zola.

Steve looked up to see Bucky aiming his rifle from an overhead balcony.

"Got you covered, Cap!"

Bucky fired two more sniper rounds at Zola's back, piercing his metal armour. Steve took the opportunity to slam his shield directly into the video screen, shattering it. The green image of Zola's face flickered on and off as the body slumped to its knees.

"Y-You . . . . hav . . . . have n-n-n-n-n-ot . . . . won, Cap . . . . tain. Ca-Ca-I shhhhhhh . . . . all r-rise ag-ag-ain-ain-ain. You b-break . . . . one b-body . . . . I ah-ah-have . . . . more."

Steve fumed.

"I'll break them too."

Steve yanked his shield out of Zola's body, which fell over onto its side, depowered. Gabe rushed up to him. Before either one could speak, Bucky fired another sniper shot to the door to the library, taking down another Hydra soldier.

"Morita's up ahead! I'll cover you! Move!"

* * *

Morita stepped into the laboratory area, scanning the room with his tommy gun. He was barely inside the door when he heard screaming and gunfire headed in his direction. Two Hydra soldiers were on the far end of the lab, shooting at him. Morita ducked behind one of the desks before wildly spraying in their direction.

"No! Stop!"

The spray of bullets cut down the soldiers, but also shattered several pieces of lab equipment. Morita looked up to see that a circular glass vial of red liquid had been destroyed, with the liquid turning to gas. The small, red gas cloud surrounded the man who had shouted, and he violently coughed and stumbled forward.

It was Horton.

"No . . . . no . . . ."

Morita watched in horror as steam started to emanate from Horton's body. He then stared down at his hands and screamed as the skin of his palms peeled off. Within seconds, cooked bits of flesh flayed off of Horton as bones in his arms and legs started to protrude through his muscles. His clothes were ripped apart by the various jagged pieces of cartilage tearing through what was left of his skin. His glasses fell to the floor as the mandibles on his jaw took shape, completing his transformation.

Horton then opened his eyes. The glowing red pupils at the centre of the black voids stared right at Morita, who was frozen in place by what he had seen.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyaaaaaaaaagh."

Horton took a step towards Morita, blood dripping down his legs and claws. The bones in his fingers had outgrown the muscle, turning all of the digits on his hands into thin blades. Horton took another step, with hunger in his eyes. He then roared and leaped forward.

Morita tried to shoot at Horton, but the transformed professor slashed the gun out of his hands before plunging its right arm through his chest. As Horton pulled Morita closer to him, with blood gushing out of his front and back, Steve and Gabe ran through the door.

"MORITA!" yelled Gabe.

Horton growled at Morita, his tongue licking his bloodied, serrated teeth. Morita then pulled a grenade off his belt and flicked off the pin.

"Chew on this, you traitor."

Horton looked at the grenade and hissed before it exploded, consuming both him and Morita. Gabe fell to his knees.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

"Come on out, little girls."

The Scorcher's plasma beam seared the wall as he lumbered about the room, looking for his two targets. Peggy and Natalie were on opposite sides of the room, with Natalie planting the last explosive charge as quietly as she could. The Scorcher's heavy breathing kept her skin crawling entire time. Just as she was finished, she slipped up by moving one hand too fast, knocking it against the column.

Natalie gasped, covering her mouth.

The Scorcher immediately turned towards the direction the noise came from. He began charging his plasma cannon when Peggy stood up behind him.

"Hey!"

The Scorcher turned around surprisingly quickly, firing his laser as he did so, carving a melted path through the room. Peggy fired several pistol shots at him, stunning him. Natalie took the moment of reprieve to run to a different hiding place.

The Scorcher quickly recovered from the shots, seemingly undamaged. Peggy lowered her pistol. The Scorcher heartily chuckled, his laugh throaty and intimidating.

"That it?"

"No."

Peggy then quickly whipped her pistol out of her hand. The unexpected attack took the Scorcher off guard; the pistol cracked against his helmet, hitting with enough force to cause him to drop his cannon. Peggy then jumped over the desk between her and him before pulling out her blade.

Stabbing him in the throat, Peggy then quickly circled around to his back as he fell to one knee. She then jammed her knife into the leather around his fuel pack, carving out a small hole. Taking a grenade off her belt, she stuffed it inside the newly formed orifice before turning around and sprinting away.

Natalie was near the door.

"Run!"

The Scorcher yelled out as he exploded, setting a large fire as he did so. Peggy and Natalie both ran up the stairs that led away from the storage floor. Once they reached a grand hall, Natalie pulled out her detonator and pressed the button, without breaking her sprint. She was a couple metres ahead of Peggy. She looked back at her friend with a wide smile.

"Hahaha! We did it! Thirty seconds and this place is . . . ."

Before Natalie could finish speaking, a sniper round entered through one of her temples and exited out the other. She fell to the floor without a sound, landing with her face to the side. Peggy quickly spotted the sniper and shot her down before looking at Natalie's corpse. A single trail of blood ran from her temple and down her cheek.

She was still smiling.

* * *

Gabe ran down the hallway, wildly firing his shotgun as the terrified Hydra soldiers fled. Steve and Bucky were far behind him.

"Gabe! Stop!" yelled Bucky.

Gabe was too consumed by rage and hysteria to hear the pleas of his friends. Quickly reloading his shotgun, he chased the Hydra troops around a corner, only to be met with a squad of ten soldiers all pointing their weapons at him.

Gabe unloaded his shotgun into the crowd, and they returned fire. Within seconds, both he and nine of the Hydra soldiers had been riddled with bullets. Finally coming around the corner, Steve and Bucky looked at the scene of carnage with dismay. Bucky was holding a pistol in his left hand.

Suddenly, the tenth Hydra soldier stood up and aimed her gun at Steve. Bucky returned aim and pulled the trigger on his pistol, but it only clicked, revealing an empty magazine. Immediately reacting, Steve grabbed the pistol out of Bucky's hand and threw it at the soldier. The force of the throw caused the gun to pierce her ribcage and rip through her torso, exiting through her back and landing on the floor behind her, covered in blood.

The soldier coughed blood onto the inside of her face mask before slumping to the floor. Steve and Bucky then silently took a moment to look at Gabe's body. They were then jostled by several large explosions coming from the floors below them.

"Oh no."

* * *

"What the hell?! Someone, report! Now!"

Schmidt was standing next to his desk, holding the edge with both hands as his room shook. The bloodhound in the transparent cage roared into the air. Schmidt then heard a voice coming through the intercom on his desk.

"Herr Skull! Catastrophic damage to the lower levels! The foundations of the building are no longer stable!"

"How did you let them do this?!"

"I'm sorry, Herr Skull, we tried . . . ."

"Fire the missiles, now! All of them!"

"They're not ready yet, and they might be thrown off by . . . . no!"

An explosion was heard through the intercom before it went to static.

"Hello? Hello!"

"You!"

Schmidt turned around to see Steve and Bucky standing in his doorway. Steve then threw his shield directly at Schmidt, who barely dodged to the side. The shield soared past him, smashing through the panoramic window. He then pulled out his Walther pistol from his belt as both Steve and Bucky charged at him. Bucky reached Schmidt first, knocking away his hand as he fired. The stray shot shattered the transparent cage containing the bloodhound.

Schmidt punched Bucky away with the back of his fist. Steve then reached for Schmidt, grabbing him around the throat with both hands. The Nazi yelled and fired a shot directly into Steve's stomach, but he shrugged it off and threw Schmidt over the desk. Steve vaulted over the furniture as Schmidt picked himself up.

Bucky, having recovered, then looked as the bloodhound leaped into the room. They stared at each other for a few moments before they began circle strafing, maintaining the same distance between them. The bloodhound then pounced, with Bucky pulling back before winding up and crushing the bloodhound's jaw with an uppercut.

Steve watched as Schmidt got to his feet again.

"Come on, get up!"

Steve punched Schmidt in the face once he was up. Schmidt staggered backwards, and Steve punched him with the opposite hand.

"How many of my friends have died today? How many good people died during this war?!"

Steve threw several more punches at Schmidt, who just stood there and took them.

"All . . . . because . . . . of you!"

Steve landed a final haymaker of Schmidt's face, knocking him against the wall. The bruised and bloodied Nazi then wiped his mouth and looked into Steve's eyes before breaking out into a hysterical laugh.

In that moment, Steve and Schmidt both understood something about each other that no one else ever would.

Bucky continued to fend off the bloodhound, dodging the wild slashes and landing several tough blows. Still, the creature seemed relatively unfazed by Bucky's attacks, when suddenly it lashed out with its claws. Bucky was too slow, and the bloodhound severed his left arm at the shoulder.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Steve turned to look at Bucky, shouting in surprise. Schmidt took the opportunity to tackle Steve, sending them both careening out of the shattered window. They landed on a balcony platform several metres below the window.

* * *

Whitehall watched as dozens of Hydra personnel stormed the docks, rushing to board the Proteus, which was a gigantic submarine that could act as a mobile, underwater command centre. Scientists, technicians, security officers and soldiers made up the bulk of the people getting on board. Whitehall even noticed that one of Zola's robots was entering the sub. After the crowd had finished boarding, the pilot looked at Whitehall.

"Sir?"

"Let's go."

"But what about . . . ."

"If they're not here now, they're not coming."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Peggy ran into the Skull's office to see a bloodhound standing over Bucky, whose left arm had been completely severed. She gasped and fired at the bloodhound, killing it with four direct shots. Her pistol empty, she tossed it to the floor before crouching next to Bucky.

"Barnes."

"S-S-Steve . . . ."

"What?"

"W-win . . . . dow . . . ."

Peggy looked at the shattered window before turning back to Bucky.

"Go . . . ."

Peggy nodded and ran towards the window. Looking down, she saw Steve and Schmidt locked in a bitter struggle. She leaped down and landed on the balcony as the entire fortress lurched. More explosions were heard in the distance.

"Peggy!"

Schmidt kicked Steve in the knee, causing him to shout in pain. He then threw one last uppercut, knocking Schmidt out and leaving him sprawled on the floor. Steve then fell to his chest. Peggy rushed over to him.

"Peg . . . ."

Peggy reached out and held his hands as he breathed heavily. She saw that he was bleeding from multiple locations.

"Steve . . . ."

"We . . . . we did it."

"Yeah . . . . we did."

Steve paused.

"Buck . . . ."

Peggy shook her head. Steve cringed and sighed. More explosions could be heard as the fortress started collapsing.

"It's over," said Steve.

"No. Not yet."

Peggy reached down and kissed Steve on the lips. She held the kiss as the platform beneath them gave away. She then felt the force of gravity take over, causing her to tumble into the air. She drifted into unconsciousness as the entirety of the Hydra fortress sank beneath the waves.


	12. Agent Carter

Earth-717: Captain America Vol 1

Chapter 12: Agent Carter

Peggy sat back in her chair. She was still holding the locket in her hand.

"And that's how it happened. I woke up in a helicopter. One of Stark's. He sent it after us as a desperate extraction option. I was the only one he found."

Peggy sighed as she finished off her sentence. Whitford, who was leaning against the table, narrowed her eyes, looking at an image in her hand. It showed a helicopter landing on an ice shelf. The helicopter had a Stark Enterprises logo emblazoned on the side.

"How did he find you?"

"Not that hard really. Saw the wreckage, and spotted me laying on the ice. I was near the edge. Couple more metres and I would've been in the water."

"And you don't know how you survived?"

"No clue. Told me I should've been dead. Fall from that height . . . . there shouldn't have been anything left."

Whitford paused to think for a moment, pondering her next question.

"You said you were with Captain Rogers when the platform gave out?"

"Yeah."

"But you did not know where he was when you awoke?"

"Stark said he didn't see anyone else. Said he made several passes over the wreck, but didn't see any other bodies."

Peggy breathed in before continuing.

"Falling down, everything was a blur. Didn't feel it at all. Was just like, a snap. One second I'm tumbling through the air, next I'm still, and I see Howard's face."

Peggy shook her head.

"I don't know how it happened. I should've been dead. Should've been dead."

Peggy and Whitford were both silent for a while. Whitford then reached out and grabbed Steve's file off of the desk.

"The SSR sent some reconnaissance crews to the wreckage, but we couldn't recover anything useful. No trace of any escape vehicles. As far as we know, you're the only survivor. No more Hydra, no more Skull."

"Yeah."

"Are you certain there are no other details? Nothing you've missed?"

Peggy looked away from Whitford, with disdain on her face.

"No."

"I don't believe you."

Peggy snapped her head back to Whitford, her eyes wide.

"What?"

"I don't believe you just miraculously survived that fall. That fortress was over a hundred metres tall; people don't live falling from those heights. I still think you're leaving something out of your story."

Peggy stammered, tears welling in her eyes.

"What do you want me to say?! That's what happened! I don't get it either, but somehow I lived, and they're all dead! Don't you understand?! They're dead! All of them! They're dead, and I lived! I didn't plan it that way; I didn't want any of this!"

"I no longer believe that."

"What?!"

"Miss Carter, Professor Horton was considered under investigation for suspicious activity by internal affairs before he turned traitor. You've been flagged under the same clause. You knowingly breached the ethical and regulatory boundaries of your assignment. You . . . ."

Whitford was cut off by the door bursting open. Both Peggy and Whitford looked with wide eyes as the Colonel walked in. He was holding a file folder in his left hand.

"Colonel?" said Whitford.

The Colonel walked past Whitford and approached Peggy.

"Carter."

"Colonel."

"I'm getting you out of here."

Whitford sputtered in surprise.

"What? This is an official interrogation! You can't just waltz in here and . . . ."

"Unfortunately for you, I can."

The Colonel pulled a paper out of his folder.

"This is an official order of pardon and release signed by Roosevelt himself. The SSR is being decommissioned."

He handed it to Whitford, who looked at the paper with dismay.

"When did this . . . ."

"Just now. This sham is over. Get out of here."

Whitford sneered. She then slammed the paper on the table.

"This is not over."

She then stormed out of the room. The Colonel looked at Peggy with a smile.

"Well . . . . that was unexpected," said Peggy. "But very satisfying."

"Don't worry about Whitford. I'll make sure she won't bother you again."

Peggy stood up.

"You said you were here to get me out. I appreciate it, but . . . . why?"

"Because we need you."

"We?"

"A fresh start. A new idea I was putting together with Stark."

He handed her the file folder he was holding. She took it and looked at the front. It had a circular eagle logo in the centre, with the title 'Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division' under it. She opened the folder and looked at the first three files.

-Agent One – Chester Phillips-

-Agent Two – Margaret Carter-

-Agent Three – Howard Stark-

"We need the best," said the Colonel. "And that's you."

Peggy looked back up at him and nodded.

"Welcome aboard, Agent Carter."

* * *

Peggy pushed her plate a few centimetres away from her before sitting back in her chair. The sandwich on the plate was half-eaten. Putting her hand back on the table, she looked down at the locket, which was next to the plate. It was still closed.

Blinking a few times, she then turned to look out of the nearby window. She watched as various automobiles drove past. She watched as several women with yellow clothing stood in a circle outside of a bookstore. She watched as a group of kids ran down the street with baseball cards in hand. She was then pulled out of her trance by the sound of a new song coming on over the radio.

_"If I didn't care . . . ."_

Peggy blinked and felt her breathing slow as she listened.

_"More than words can say,_

_ If I didn't care,  
Would I feel this way?"_

Peggy was silent the entire time, feeling her mouth transition between a smile and a frown several times during the song.

_"If I didn't care,  
Would it be the same?  
Would my every prayer,  
Begin and end with just your name?  
And would I be sure that this,  
Is love beyond compare?  
Would all this be true,  
If I didn't care for you?"_

When the song was over, Peggy stood up, grabbing the plate and her empty Coke bottle. She walked over to the counter and placed them in front of the chef. He was a rotund man with a bald head and grey moustache.

"No more?"

"Sorry," replied Peggy. "Guess I wasn't that hungry after all."

"Ah, it's alright. You know, I knew a kid who came in here all the time, could never finish a sandwich to save his life. Heh heh. He'd always walk in and say 'Ron, this time I'm gonna do it!' and I says, 'No chance, lance' and he'd have a laugh."

Peggy weakly smiled at Ron's story.

"Come to think of it, he stopped comin' by a couple years back. Heard he got drafted. Don't believe it myself. Always was a scrawny lad. Had the heart of a saint, though. Reckon he probably just moved somewhere else. Yeah . . . . he was a good kid."

"Yeah. He was."

Peggy then turned and grabbed her locket off of the table before walking to the door. She looked at it for several seconds, her finger on the hook. She thought long and hard about opening it. After a while, she shook her head and put the locket around her neck instead, before walking out to the street.

THE END

Captain America Will Return

* * *

Epilogue

Zola walked through the main vehicle bay of the Proteus submarine. It had several tanks and helicopters inside of it, which they had used during their assault on Camp Lehigh. Zola opened the door at the far end of the bay and arrived in the command centre. Whitehall and several technicians were inside. Whitehall was speaking into a transceiver.

"Yes, we have our course set for Greece now, Baron. Once we've convened with the Mistress, I'll contact you."

"Understood," said Strucker's voice through the transceiver. "Safe travels, Doctor."

"You too, Baron. Hail Hydra."

Whitehall shut off the radio and turned to Zola.

"Doctor Zola. Strucker's up to speed."

"Good. You had something to show me?"

"Yes."

Whitehall led Zola over to one of the video consoles.

"During the escape, we managed to recover two bodies from the wreckage."

Whitehall pressed a button on the console, and it showed an image of two bodies in the medical bay. Zola was surprised to see who they were.

"They're alive?"

"On life support."

"Well . . . . then I suppose we must get to work."


End file.
